


Seen

by majesticartax



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Kageyama Tobio, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, M/M, Masturbation, Mostly Smut, Top Hinata Shouyou, semi-public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 06:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14231223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticartax/pseuds/majesticartax
Summary: Kageyama's parents are away for the weekend, and Hinata's attempt at sneaky romance doesn't go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was commissioned by the wonderful wafflecone (who has been HUGELY supportive and kind and just an all-around fantastic human being *heart eyes*) to write some canon-compliant bottom Kags and... I went insane. I don't want to say how long it was originally supposed to be, but just trust me when I say I have no self control. This was amazingly fun and challenging (due to my visceral Bottom Hinata Bias™) and there will definitely be more bottom Kageyama in the future. 
> 
> THANK YOU WAFFLECONE!
> 
> <3

_“Hinata.”_

_…_

_“Hey. Hinata.”_

_“Nnm.”_

“Dumbass.”

“ _Mmmm.”_

“Hey. Get up.”

There’s a mighty huff of breath and then,

 _“_ Noo~ five more hours,” Hinata whines, turning around in Kageyama’s arms and burying his face in his shirt. He breathes in deeply. “You smell like sweat.”

“Whose fault is that?” Kageyama asks lowly against the top of Hinata’s head. “You didn’t let me shower after practice.”

“I was sleepy. Didn’t say it was bad,” Hinata mumbles, clinging onto the setter’s practice shirt and rubbing his face against his chest for emphasis.

“Well, we have to get up,” Kageyama mutters. “My mom is going to be home soon. If she catches you in my bed she won’t let you in my room anymore. And that means no spending the night, either.”

“So what,” Hinata gripes, begrudgingly raising his head to look Kageyama in the face. “I’ve snuck in before.”

“Yeah, and that’s stressful.”

“’s not stressful,” Hinata pouts, pushing himself into a sitting position and frowning down at Kageyama. “It’s _romantic._ ”

Kageyama rolls his eyes at that and palms Hinata’s face, shoving him backwards off the bed to a squawk of surprise. He’s fine.

“I don’t know why she’d have a problem with it,” Hinata grumbles against the carpet. “It’s not like we can get pregnant or whatever.” His cheeks are already hot before the last of the words even leave his mouth. If his face weren’t already mashed against the floor he’d bury it as deep as he could in the scratchy fibers.

“Yeah, well,” Kageyama says as he rolls off the bed—unconcerned with whatever dumb shit Hinata just said. He snuggles up next to him and drapes an arm across his back, yanking a blanket down off the bed, too. “I don’t want to risk it,” he murmurs against Hinata’s burning ear. “I like sleeping with you too much.”

Melting just a little, Hinata grins and rolls beneath Kageyama’s arm to face him again and knock their foreheads together gently. “I thought we had to get up, idiot.”

“Floor’s fine.”

“How?”

Kageyama just grunts and hugs Hinata close.

They lie there silently for several minutes until Hinata sighs and kisses Kageyama on the forehead and sits up, stretching and yawning.

Kageyama is right, though. It probably wouldn’t be the best thing for his mom to come home from work and find them all tangled up in each other. Even if it’s just an after-practice nap.

Or maybe she’d think it’s adorable. She’s pretty weird. But still, it’s just not worth the risk.

They haven’t told their parents yet that they’re dating. And Hinata isn’t sure how he’d fare being banished from Kageyama’s room.

“You know…” Kageyama starts quietly and then trails off. When he doesn’t say anything else, Hinata looks down at him, waiting for him to finish. Kageyama swallows and sits up, keeping his eyes lowered. Then his cheeks start to pink.

He’s so fucking cute Hinata wants to punch him.

Kageyama clears his throat awkwardly and rubs at the back of his neck before continuing. “I’ve been meaning to tell you… my parents are, um, going away for three days, so—”

Hinata’s stomach swoops.

“—I was thinking…”

“Yes!”

Kageyama flicks his eyes up to Hinata and arches a brow at him.

“I-I mean,” Hinata says quickly, averting his gaze and poking at the carpet, all nonchalant and super composed and shit. “Um, so when are they leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” Kageyama says, keeping his eyes on the side of Hinata’s face. When Hinata looks back at him, Kageyama licks his lips and turns away, his cheeks now a deep red.

And with the heat in his own face, Hinata is sure he looks the same. “We have that overnight practice camp at Nekoma on Saturday,” he points out.

But Kageyama shrugs. “So come over the nights before and after.”

Hinata nods, calmly, but his mind is spinning with possibilities.

Two nights with Kageyama. Alone. The whole house to themselves.

They’ve come a long way since their first year—enemies to partners. Partners to friends. And now, in their second year, and as of two weeks ago when Hinata cornered Kageyama in the equipment room and kissed him one night after a particularly frustrating practice, from friends to…

_Boyfriends._

Hinata still gets all fluttery when he thinks of the word.

“Okay, yeah,” Hinata says, nodding quickly. “Yes. I’ll… y-yes.”

Because, yeah, when Kageyama said that he likes sleeping with Hinata, that’s literally what he meant: sleeping. Because Kageyama _loves_ sleeping with Hinata.

He also loves hugging him. Kissing him. Cuddling with him. Just touching him in general.

At first, Hinata was a little surprised by how fucking _affectionate_ Kageyama was. You’d never know it by looking at him; he looks like one of those guys who’d cringe at even the _thought_ of bodily closeness. But, actually, Kageyama’s inclination makes a lot of sense considering how much he touched Hinata even before they started dating.

Anyway.

As touchy as Kageyama is, they haven’t really…

Done…

_You know._

Okay.

It’s not like they’ve done _nothing_.  

They’ve made out more times than Hinata can count, and most of the time their dry humping ends less _dry_ and more…

 _Not_ dry.

They’ve jerked each other off a few times, and that feels so, _so_ good. But Hinata can’t help but want more. Kageyama is gorgeous in his own dorky, hugely embarrassing way; his body is perfection and his face can be cute and serious and stupid and handsome and all the things that makes Hinata burn up on the inside just by looking at him. He’s been attracted to Kageyama since the moment he first saw him, so obviously he’s going to want more out of being with him.

So a few days ago, after finally building up the courage, and after dreaming and fantasizing for _months_ about what it would be like to have Kageyama’s cock in his mouth, and after doing _all_ the research on all those super-secret techniques that are hidden in those women’s magazines at the grocery store and on sketchy click-bait websites, Hinata tried going down on him.

But he was stopped.

It was weird (tragic) and, admittedly, a little upsetting (devastating); but Kageyama pulled Hinata up from between his legs and pressed an apologetic kiss to his lips before looking him in the face with wide, frightened eyes.

There was no explanation, but Hinata got the message. And he tried not to let his disappointment show.

And of _course_ Hinata will wait until he’s ready—fuck, he’s waited over a year just to _be_ with him. He’s prepared to wait forever.

But _fuck_ does he _want_ it.

Because Kageyama drives him crazy _._ The way he moves against Hinata when they’re making out; how quick he is to shove Hinata’s shorts down to his thighs and press their cocks together when Hinata is on top of him, jerking them both off with a big hand wrapped around them and how fucking _desperate_ and needy Kageyama can get, gasping Hinata’s name and grabbing hard at his hips.

It’s just strange that Kageyama would be so opposed to Hinata giving him more.

But, again, Hinata will wait forever, if he has to, and he’s not going to demand any kind of explanation. He loves Kageyama. Everything about him.

Even the part of him that doesn’t let Hinata give him blowjobs.

But goddammit he’d be _really_ good at it! He just _knows_ he would be, so if Kageyama would just let him he would _see—_

“Hey.”

Hinata jumps, blinking back from his thoughts. “What?”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama scowls. “Am I boring you?”

Hinata narrows his eyes and launches himself at Kageyama, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders back against the bed. “Shut up,” he says before dipping forward and pressing their lips together. There’s a gasp of surprise and Hinata slips his tongue into the setter’s mouth and runs his hand up the back of his neck, clutching at black hair to tilt Kageyama’s head back and deepen the kiss.

When Hinata pulls back, it takes a few seconds for Kageyama’s eyes to reopen; they look unfocused—lost and reeling and fuzzy. Hinata tries not to giggle at the way Kageyama’s hair is sticking up everywhere.

“I love you,” Hinata whispers instead before dropping forward to bury his face in the side of Kageyama’s neck.

They both twitch at the sound of a door slamming downstairs.

“Homework,” Kageyama mumbles into Hinata’s hair.

And Hinata sighs. “Homework,” he agrees as he gracelessly flops sideways off Kageyama’s lap.

They scatter some random books and papers across the floor—all the necessary ingredients to stage a convincing study session; Hinata joins Kageyama with his back up against the side of the bed and sticks a pen in his mouth. Studious as fuck.

But Hinata has to smile down at his notes, peeking over at the way Kageyama awkwardly shifts a heavy textbook around in his lap. The setter is flushed up to his ears and can’t stop squirming.

Hinata slides the pen over his lips, suppressing the urge to drop his hand between his own legs.

He can’t _wait_ for tomorrow. Even if nothing _happens_ happens…

He still can’t wait to spend two nights alone with Kageyama.

*

The next night, disaster strikes. And the disaster’s name is _Natsu._

Okay, that’s mean. She’s not a disaster.

But she just might be the number-one cock block of the century.

Hinata shakes his head, clearing it of cock-related thoughts while his little sister is tucked up under his arm and asleep in his bed.

It was his turn to help her with homework tonight, which is fine. He really does love playing the brotherly role. But then she had a nightmare right after getting into bed, and apparently he is the only one who can keep her safe from monsters.

How could he say no?

Even though his boyfriend might currently be lying in his bed, waiting for Hinata to come over. Maybe wearing nothing but some tight black briefs. Or maybe wearing nothing at all. Maybe he’s surrounded by rose petals with his dick all tied up with a pretty red bow and when Hinata walks in he’ll say ‘ _I’m sorry I made you wait_ —‘

He sighs and reaches over to click off his bedside lamp, careful not to disturb Natsu on the other side of him, and quietly fishes his cellphone out from the sheets. He types out a text.

_Shouyou: I have bad news_

He waits. And then,

_Tobio:  you ok?_

_Shouyou: natsu had a nightmare and wants to sleep in my room tonight_

Hinata chews his lip, nervously tapping at the side of his phone while he waits for the inevitable disappointed text message.

When a few minutes tick by without a response, he types out: _are you mad?_ The moment he hits _send,_ Kageyama’s message comes through.

_Tobio: cute_

And Hinata frowns. He’s totally mad.

_Tobio: no dumbass I’m not mad_

Oh.

But still, Hinata can’t help but let the guilt and sadness weigh down his heart.

_Tobio: you can still come over sunday_

Hinata sighs.

_Tobio: you can make me dinner to make up for it_

Hinata blows out a quiet, frustrated breath through his nose and jabs a finger at the _call contact_ icon. Kageyama picks up after one ring.

“I’ll make you dinner for a year,” he whispers into the phone, watching the sleeping Natsu out of the corner of his eye.

“You can’t cook, idiot. I wasn’t being serious. And actually—”

“Yeah, well,” Hinata interrupts, “I’ll think of something to make up for it.”

“Just stop,” Kageyama says with a yawn. “We’ll see each other all weekend.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Shouyou.”

Hinata’s stomach flips and he snaps his mouth shut at the low grumbling warning that turns hot in his cheeks.

And then Kageyama says softly and deeply, “Sunday isn’t that far away.”

Hinata bites his lip and suppresses a groan. Mostly because Sunday _is_ terribly far away, but _mostly_ because Kageyama doesn’t even know how sexy he is—how fucking seductive he can be just in dropping the tone of his already rumbly voice. “ _Yeah_ ,” Hinata rasps. He clears his throat quietly and tries again. “Yeah,” he says, sadly. “I just... really wanted to see you tonight.”

“I, um…” Hinata can hear Kageyama falter, “I really wanted that, too.”

Hinata whines pitifully. He tries not to think about the way Kageyama might have attacked him right when he walked through the door that night, how maybe he’d already be hard when he pressed Hinata up against the wall of the foyer, kissing him deeply while he confessed to thinking about getting him alone all day. And maybe Kageyama would drop to his knees right there in the entryway and look up and say, _‘I just wanted to do it first, dumbass,’_ and then he’d run his warm palm over the front of Hinata’s shorts and—

Hinata shakes his head again sharply and puts the phone back to his ear.

There’s a stretch of silence and Hinata can hear some rustling of what sounds like blankets; they had a long, tiring practice that afternoon in preparation for the Nekoma practice match tomorrow, and with all the extra work Kageyama put in to run a bunch of setting drills, he’s probably exhausted.

Hinata sighs and wishes he could be there with him. Even if that doesn’t fulfill his fantasy about Kageyama being competitive about who gives the first blowjob or whatever. He sleeps so well with Kageyama beside him. It’s just so comfortable and comforting and _perfect_ …

Hinata sighs again.

Oh well.

“Well,” Hinata starts, trying not to sound too defeated, “I’ll let you—”

“I really wanted—”

“ _What!?”_ Hinata blurts, closing his mouth quickly and shooting a look down at Natsu. She makes a little grumbly noise, but doesn’t react otherwise.

“Nothing,” Kageyama says quickly. “Never mind.”

“No, no no no no, what were you going to say?” Hinata demands in a frantic whisper. “You wanted what? _What?_ ”

“Nothing, idiot,” Kageyama mumbles again. “I’m just tired.”

“Fine,” Hinata wilts against his pillow and his brows crinkle into a pout. “Why don’t you just go to sleep then.”

“I will.”

“Fine then.”

“Good night.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

But neither one of them hang up.

“Tobio,” Hinata says softly, his grumpy face relaxing. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, stupid,” Kageyama replies sleepily.

“Dinner.”

“We’ll see.”

“Or a whole gallon of milk.”

There’s a pause. And then,

“I’ll accept that.”

Hinata grins. “It’s settled then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t be late for the bus.”

“I’m never late for the bus you ass—

“G’night!” and Hinata quickly hangs up the phone, giggling to himself.

But then his quiet laughter peters out, and he sits there silently, staring at the dark screen of his phone. It flares brightly in his face and he squints when a message comes through.

 _Tobio:_ _goodnight assface_

God, he loves him.

Hinata lays his phone down on the nightstand and then wiggles himself down into his bed, trying his best not to disturb his sister. But then,

_“WAH!”_

She’s staring right at him with an angry little scowl.

“Jesus, Natsu—”

“So _loud_ , Shouyou,” she scolds.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” Natsu says, sitting up and looking around the dark room. “I’m done.”

“You’re done?” Hinata asks, cocking his head as she clambers over him and drops down off the side of the bed with her ratty stuffed rabbit clutched in her tiny fist.

“Yep!” she says, padding over the carpet. “Thanks!”

And then she opens the door and closes it behind her.

Hinata sits up and blinks into the darkness. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He dramatically drops over onto his side, kicking and flailing his legs in frustration. Once his temper tantrum subsides, he snatches his phone and goes to call Kageyama back, but then he pauses.

No.

No, he’s not going to call him.

A tremor of excitement zips through him.

Because what’s more romantic than a midnight surprise?

*

Twenty minutes later, Hinata is quietly walking his bike up Kageyama’s driveway; he parks it near the garage and sneaks over to the flowerpot near the porch, tipping it up to snag the spare key beneath. But when he tiptoes up to the front door, he finds the thing unlocked anyway.

While he replaces the key, he makes a note to chastise Kageyama. Who knows what kind of perverts and hooligans are lurking the streets at this hour!

He tries not to include himself on that list as he creeps into the foyer like a little predator.

Sliding off his shoes, Hinata’s stomach swims with excited anticipation. Even if all they do is sleep, Hinata just can’t believe that he’s about to lie beside the boy he’s crushed so hard on for so long in a completely empty house.

And he knows he’s getting ahead of himself, but as he so super quietly ninjas up the stairs and makes his way down the hall, he imagines what it would be like to be married—to actually _own_ a house with Kageyama one day. And yeah, they’ve only been dating for a couple weeks but Hinata certainly wouldn’t mind spending their lives together. Coming home after a long, arduous day of volleyball at the office and being so quiet and careful not to wake Kageyama while he slips silently into their bedroom, shedding his clothes and then curling up against him. Feeling the warmth where their bare skin brushes together; how Kageyama would wrap his long limbs around him, muttering something into his hair about waiting up for him all night. How rude Hinata is for making him wait so long. But then it’s hard to imagine that Kageyama wouldn’t have had the same long, volleyball-filled day as well, so instead of Hinata having to sneak in all quiet they would be arriving at home together, too impatient now that they’re alone to even make it to the bedroom before—

_“—nn—“_

Hinata freezes.

His blood turns to ice and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the unexpected sound in the dark, quiet house.

Hinata’s mind starts to turn; what if he got the nights wrong. What if Kageyama’s parents aren’t actually gone yet and he’s just a huge idiot and Kageyama’s dad is about to stroll around the corner on his way to the bathroom and—

No. No, that’s silly. He isn’t that stupid.

Kageyama is alone in the house tonight. He knows this.

So whatever noise that was was likely _him_ , so—

“— _ah_ —“

Yes. The noise is definitely coming from Kageyama’s bedroom. And from where Hinata is standing in the hall it isn’t hard to see that the door to Kageyama’s room is cracked. And even though the light is off, it’s possible he’s still awake. So Hinata can rest easy—there aren’t any parents or ghosts milling around to fuck things up. But Hinata frowns.

He stands there listening, hearing just the faintest hint of heavy breathing mixed with quiet sounds of whimpering and vague distress.

Shit. Kageyama might be having a nightmare.

Hinata’s heart squeezes. What if _that’s_ the reason he likes sleeping with Hinata so much? What if Kageyama is plagued by night terrors and it’s Hinata’s presence that keeps them at bay?

He helped Natsu with that earlier, after all. Maybe this is his calling in life.

Spiking tosses and chasing away bad dreams.

It must be his natural radiance.

And so with an unreasonable amount of pride puffing up his chest, he sets his jaw and takes another quiet step forward, determined to save Kageyama from whatever demons he’s facing while he sleeps.

He takes another quiet step. He doesn’t want to startle him.

Maybe he’s dreaming about middle school.

Another step.

Or maybe it’s that big dog that barks at them on their way home.

Another step.

Whatever it is will be gone the moment Hinata slips beneath the covers with him. He’ll be gentle and slow and wrap his arms around Kageyama; he’ll put his lips to his ear and soothingly tell Kageyama that he’s here – that he has nothing to fear—

Well, no. He’s not going to _rhyme_ at him.

One more careful step brings Hinata to the gap in Kageyama’s door and—

“ _—S-Shouyou—“_

Oh.

OH.

But Hinata isn’t entirely sure what he’s even looking it, at first. Like, yeah, even in the shadowy room Hinata can see Kageyama kneeling on the bed. Without pushing the door open further Hinata can see his bare thighs and knees parted wide on the mattress and his crumpled boxers lying abandoned on the floor.

The moonlight is enough where he can _see_ the muscles of Kageyama’s arm tense when the hand braced against the bed fists into the sheets below him. And when his body jerks and that arm gives out and Kageyama drops his head against it, crying out when he does, Hinata can see the sheen of sweat across the pale curve of his back where his t-shirt rucks up over his waist.

Hinata can’t see his face, now, with it buried in the messy bedding and his ass somewhat in the air. But he can still hear the noises—the muffled gasping and moaning; the husky, feral groans of Hinata’s name breathed over and over again into the sheets.

And he can see Kageyama’s other arm, where it reaches back, twisting up and behind him; the bend to his wrist and the way his fingers work in and out—

Oh.

_Oh._

_OH._

_“—fuck—Hinata—"_

The room slips out of focus and Hinata grabs at the doorframe to catch his balance, but the sudden vertigo and clam to his palms threatens to chase it away again. There’s the ticking scrape of nails against wood when Hinata sways to the side, scrambling back to square himself at the doorway. Wide eyes blink. They blink again. And then again before sticking open. His tongue flicks out to wet his parched lips and he presses them together then, swallowing down his heart before it spills out onto the carpet. But his lips are forced apart again with the effort it takes to breathe—to get all the necessary air into his body to process the situation.

Because Kageyama is fingering himself.

Oh.

Oh _god_ Kageyama is _fingering himself_.

This isn’t—

He never—

It never—

They didn’t—

They’ve never—

 _He’s_ never—

What the _fuck._

It isn’t until Hinata’s knees buckle, legs folding under him when he slides down the wall at the end of the hallway that he realizes his wobbly legs carried him backwards all the way down the corridor in his utter shock.

Sitting on the floor now, his eyes remain frozen open; hands raised up by his face, palms facing forward in some kind of surrender. He swallows hard again, raspy breath coming faster and faster to the faint, desperate sounds trembling from Kageyama’s bedroom and echoing over the dark walls.

Shaking fingers of both hands twist into Hinata’s hair at the front, and suddenly it’s as if that deep voice, coarse and wrecked with pleasure is panting right into his ear, making his hot skin prickle. He wants to press his hands to his ears—his _conscience_ wants him to, anyway. Because this wasn’t meant to be on display; Hinata wasn’t meant to _see_ this! This is intimate and private and secret and—

Fuck.

_FUCK!_

Kageyama is—

He’s—

He’s really—

FUCK.

Hinata can’t be listening to this. He _can’t_ do this to Kageyama.

But what is he supposed to do? What _can_ he do!? Should he just leave? Should he tell Kageyama he’s here!? Should he stroll in and ask if he needs a hand like in those shitty porno movies—

_“—ah—Hinata—”_

_FUCK!_

No… no no no he can’t let Kageyama know he’s there, Kageyama will absolutely _murder_ him.

So he’ll leave.

Yeah… yeah, Hinata will just get up and leave. He’ll quietly leave and never speak of this to anyone.

“— _oh god—”_

He’ll just go, and Kageyama will never know he was here.

“— _fuck—”_

He’s leaving.

“— _Shouyou—”_

Right now.

“— _ah—”_

He’s getting up.

“ _—fuck me—”_

Oh _GOD._

Hinata feels dizzy—feverish and flushed in the cool air of the house. And although he knows this is so terribly, _terribly_ wrong and awful and he’s the absolute worst boyfriend in this history of the world, listening to grumpy, brooding, somewhat prudish Kageyama fall apart at the mercy of his own hands sets off a warm, spreading thrill winding through his entire body.

And when that pleading voice reaches his ears again, Hinata can’t ignore the aching hardness tenting his shorts anymore.

He knocks his head back against the wall and lets the fingers in his hair loosen; he notices his breathing—hard and rough and fast and it lifts his chest in a shaky rhythm and he fears for a second that maybe Kageyama can hear him panting. That he’ll be found— _found out._

But the fear dissolves when the image of Kageyama with his fingers buried inside of himself floats up again in his mind. His eyes fall closed as his hands trail down the side of his warm face; fingers of one hand still at his parted lips while the other hand continues down over his throat, loose and delicate where fingertips skim over his collarbone, catching at the neck of his shirt before roaming downwards, palm hot against his heaving chest.

He shifts, then, bringing his legs out from under himself to brace his socked feet against the carpet and pop his knees up. His fingers dip into his mouth when he slips his hand into his shorts and he groans, thighs parting wide when he rubs over his stiff length.

This is bad. This is _wrong_.

_“—p-please, Shouyou—”_

And there’s no way in hell he’s stopping.

His cock swells and beats in time with the whimpered, breaking calls of his name emanating from Kageyama’s bedroom. Because Kageyama wants him. Kageyama _wants him_.

After stopping Hinata from sucking his dick, Kageyama is in there begging a fantasy version of Hinata to fuck him and oh, oh _god_ —

 _“’—yama—”_ he dares to answer him, just once, “— _yes_ — _let me—"_

His stomach clenches and then ripples with a pulsing warmth like a swelling wave in the sea. A hoarse moan issues from his dry throat when he grips himself properly inside his shorts and immediately starts to stroke, tugging up and over the head. Taking his wet fingers from his mouth, he brushes the knuckles over his lips, warm breath fanning out over his skin as he works himself. He imagines Kageyama’s lips against his, slack and panting, his brow furrowed in pleasure instead of irritation, moaning and gasping against Hinata’s mouth instead of into his bed.

He starts to rock his hips off the floor—christ, this isn’t going to last long. The breathless, urgent quality to Kageyama’s voice tells Hinata that he’s almost there, too, and it takes all of Hinata’s self-control to not cry out in pleasure; and so he stuffs his fingers into his mouth again, tongue rolling over the salty skin as he pumps himself faster and harder.

_“—ah—hah—Sho—fuck—”_

Hinata bites his knuckles, hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to stifle a sob when he rolls his thumb over the weeping head of his cock, smearing the fluid down over his shaft with his palm.

Kageyama’s voice becomes muddled—a nonsensical steam of panted syllables and whimpered cries. And oh, _oh_ if it were only Hinata there at the helm, coaxing all those sweet sounds from Kageyama—feeling him wind up tight and squeeze down over Hinata’s length or his fingers or, god help him, his _tongue._

_“—gonna come—S-Sho—oh—oh god—“_

And Hinata is right there with him.

With a muffled whimper of his own, Hinata pulls his fingers from his lips and shoves his shorts down past the red, swollen head just in time to spurt hot and thick onto his t-shirt; his wet fingers twine into the worn waistband as his hips shake and roll and twitch up off the floor as he liberally coats himself to the sound of Kageyama choking out his name with his climax.

Hinata continues to thrust weakly into his hand while he comes down from a whirlwind of an unexpected high, and his head thuds against the wall once he’s finished coming all over himself. And the house is silent again.

He gets to bask in all of two seconds of post-orgasm bliss and hard breathing before he scrambles up, tripping over himself quietly and yanking his shorts up as he dashes as silently as possible towards the stairs. With his pulse still hammering away a mile a minute, it’s a struggle not to hurl himself down to the landing below in one leap, but instead he creeps quietly along the edge of the steps, descending one by one and avoiding the creeks and the whines of the wood. He reaches the bottom and ducks behind a corner just as an upstairs light flicks on and slow, heavy footsteps make their way down the hall to the bathroom.

Hinata flattens himself against the wall and presses a hand to his thudding heart. He pulls it away immediately, scrunching his face up at the cum-covered palm. He looks down at himself in disgust.

And takes off in the direction of the kitchen.

He shuffles around the dark in muted panic in search of paper towels, but the best he can do is a dishrag hanging off the stove and so he snatches at it before furiously dabbing over his clothing. Once he’s accomplished smearing his own mess around his shirt, he instinctively hurries over to the sink to rinse the towel, thrusting it beneath the faucet and then freezing a millisecond before turning the water on.

He didn’t think this through.

Wide eyes flick from the towel to his soiled clothes and back to the towel again before he just drops the gross thing into the sink and shucks his shirt, turning inside out and then quickly tugging it back on.

He cringes hard and juts his arms out awkwardly to the sides, doing his best to curl his chest away from the rapidly cooling semen—

“What are you doing?”

Hinata screams.

He spins around and staggers backwards, colliding hard with the sink behind him.

“What are _you_ doing!?” he shrieks.

Kageyama blinks placidly, unconcerned, and raises an empty glass. “Getting a drink.”

Hinata nods quickly and points for some stupid reason at the refrigerator.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Kageyama says coolly.

Wide-eyed, Hinata watches Kageyama pass in front of him. Light streams from the fridge and Kageyama pours himself a glass of milk, takes a sip, and shuts the door before turning back towards Hinata. “So,” he says, leaning against the counter. “What are you doing?”

Hinata swallows and wrings his hands, looking away.

_‘—Hinata—fuck me—’_

He shakes his head sharply to clear it, his stomach flipping when he shoots a look back at his boyfriend. “Um,” he says, “s-surprise!”

Kageyama arches a brow.

“Natsu went back to her room, so—”

“So you thought you’d break in and,” Kageyama’s eyes flick past Hinata, “put a towel in the sink.”

Thank god it’s relatively dark, because Hinata’s face positively _ignites._

“I-I, uh,” he stammers, “g-got muddy on the way in! I wanted to, um…” he trails off, eyebrows knitting. His heart sinks at the frown tugging down the corner of Kageyama’s mouth. “Are you mad?”

And then Kageyama straightens a bit, expression clearly startled by the suggestion. “No,” he says quickly, face softening. “No I’m… sorry, I’m just… you surprised me.”

“Mission accomplished,” Hinata mutters, dropping his eyes.

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says under his breath before striding forward and pulling Hinata into his arms. “I’m really glad to see you,” he says against the top of Hinata’s head.

_‘—ah—Shouyou—’_

Hinata brings his own arms up and clings to Kageyama, pressing his burning face into his shirt.

They stand there in the kitchen, just hugging, while Hinata tries to ignore the, uh, _situation_ , sticky and cool against his bare skin. And then Kageyama asks, softly, hesitantly,

“How... long have you been here?”

“Just a-a minute or two,” Hinata peeps, biting his lip.

Kageyama nods against him and steps away, keeping hold of Hinata’s shoulders. Blue eyes study him for a moment, curious or suspicious—Hinata isn’t sure which, or which it would look like if he hadn’t just witnessed something so scandalous. Or maybe Kageyama isn’t looking at him strangely at all.

“What?” Hinata finally asks.

Kageyama scowls. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

“Well… yeah,” he mumbles, blushing. “Can I borrow some clothes? I’m… um, sweaty from the bike ride.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kageyama says, turning away and snagging his milk off the counter before leading Hinata out of the kitchen. “You smell weird.”

Hinata covers his face with his hands as they ascend the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey!”

Hinata jerks with the force of Lev slapping him on the back and he pokes himself hard in the lips with the water bottle he was raising to his mouth.

“You’re all spacey today,” the tall boy says as he joins Hinata on the bench. “And quiet. It’s weird. Stop being weird.”

Hinata rubs at his assaulted lips and sighs, setting the bottle down. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” he mumbles.

“Nervous just for this?” Lev asks, gesturing with his eyes to the gym full of mingling Karasuno and Nekoma students.

But Hinata shakes his head. “No, I—“ he pauses, wondering if he should say anything on the matter at all. It’s not like he’s going to _explain_ what happened last night, but maybe even letting on that _something_ happened is giving too much away. “I spent the night at Kageyama’s last night,” he says anyway, knuckling at his eye.

Lev gasps, clutching his heart and fanning himself with his other hand.

“Nothing like that!” Hinata hisses his lie, waving his hands in front of himself and looking quickly to the side, catching Kageyama’s eye from across the gym. “I uh,” Hinata swallows, looking back at his friend, “just couldn’t sleep.” He laughs nervously, then, wrapping up his hands in the hem of his practice jersey.

And that much is true, at least. Hinata most _definitely_ could not sleep last night in light of the, uh, _incident_. After Hinata changed into one of Kageyama’s t-shirts and old practice shorts, there was some light kissing that morphed quickly into some heavy making out, but with Kageyama’s recent energy expenditure it was obvious that he was struggling to stay awake. And after _witnessing_ that energy expenditure, Hinata was struggling to act normal.

So he felt the utmost relief when Kageyama apologized for being so tired and jumped at the chance to suggest that they just go to sleep.

And so that’s what they did. Well, that’s what _Kageyama_ did.

And with Kageyama all curled up behind him with an arm slung around his waist, Hinata was absolutely dying to join him. Except every time Hinata bumped up against the edge of unconsciousness, Kageyama would sigh or breathe or murmur a deep rumbling groan—nothing more than a consequence of sleep—and Hinata would be right back in that doorway, watching his setter take his own long, perfect fingers hard and deep.

So Hinata spent the bulk of the night lying painfully awake—hyperaware of every subtle movement from the boy behind him and chewing on the tips of his fingers to distract himself from his own persistent, raging erection, hot and against the inside of his thigh.

At one point, with his brain thick and hazy with the first inklings of sleep, Hinata snapped awake, barely in time to bite back a moan with his hand stuffed into his loose shorts, his palm warm and rubbing hard against his leaking head where he had pressed it up against his belly. He was quick to stop—at first; but when he carefully turned around in Kageyama’s arms and saw his sleep-peaceful face, images from earlier struck like a firebomb and he just couldn’t help but to squeeze himself hard, keeping his lip caught in his teeth to dampen the sound of his crimes.

Kageyama has always been beautiful, but after having seen just a flash of his face drawn up in rapture before it fell into the sheets, Hinata found a brand-new appreciation for the lay of lashes against his cheeks and the curve to his parted lips. And despite knowing better than to be a wretched creep, Hinata leaned forward and brushed their lips together softly—barely even a touch—and started stroking himself with purpose.

But somehow, he mustered all of his self-restraint and stopped himself short. He couldn’t just, like, come again in Kageyama’s shorts! And so he crept carefully from beneath the sheets and uncomfortably trotted to the bathroom to shamefully relieve himself again.

And it would have been nice if that had been the end of it. If he could sleep after.

But he still couldn’t shake those thoughts.

It was a rough night.

And now, all sleep deprived and loopy, Hinata can’t keep his mind from wandering or eyes from straying to the other end of the gym where Kageyama is standing with Kenma and Nishinoya. He can hear Lev talking beside him, but his bleary eyes focus on the slight pop to Kageyama’s hip where the volleyball rests between there and his arm; it’s the loose legs of Kageyama’s shorts that draw his attention, and the curve of his ass beneath the black fabric makes Hinata absently run his tongue over his lips. He hadn’t been able to see much from his position in the doorway last night, so Hinata is forced to suffer the throes of his imagination to get a better angle on what Kageyama would have looked like from behind—ass in the air and thighs spread while he fucking _begged_.

It’s through lidded eyes that Hinata watches his boyfriend like a vulture ready to feast; wondering just what sort of magic he would have to conjure to get Kageyama down on his knees in front of him like that. The way Kageyama’s lips move while he talks to the others has Hinata mesmerized, and all those pleas and cries echo around in his ears—

_‘Shouyou, fuck me—’_

—he wonders if Kageyama would really beg that exact same way, or if those lurid requests were reserved only for his special alone time. And what was Kageyama imagining anyway? Were those pumping fingers meant to emulate Hinata kneeling behind him? Or was it just some _thing_ that Kageyama did because it felt good? God—Hinata sure hopes for the former.

Kageyama must have felt the fire of Hinata’s stare burning into him from several yards away because Hinata realizes that Kageyama has turned to look right at him; dark brows pinch in self-conscious confusion and he cocks his head to the side. _“What?”_ Kageyama mouths.

But Hinata just drags his bottom lip through his teeth and sighs a little whimper out his nose.

He has to wipe his sweaty palms on his shorts, forward and back, gliding the slippery material over his thighs with eyes glued to Kageyama. Kageyama is quick to fluster with Hinata staring at him like that; blue eyes jump nervously side to side before he lowers his face to scowl at Hinata, mouthing _“stop it”_ as he starts to blush.

“Wow,” Lev says from beside him, following Hinata’s gaze while he rises to his feet. “I didn’t know he could turn that color.”

Hinata squirms, despite smiling at that, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the bench as his stomach rushes with heat. “Mmhm,” he says of the red in Kageyama’s cheeks, tearing his eyes from the setter to watch his friend lope away. He flinches, then, when a volleyball bounces hard at his feet and careens off somewhere near the bleachers.

Kageyama is glaring at him hard when he looks back up. “Wake up, dumbass!” He growls from across the gym.

Hinata’s lips curl up at the sides when Kageyama turns on his heel, face in full flush, and stomps toward the exit.

And then Hinata springs up off the bench and chases after him.

*

Later that night, Hinata still can’t sleep.

Even after a full day of volleyball. Even after stuffing himself to the brim at dinner and then taking a long, hot shower to help soothe his aching muscles and calm his busy mind, he’s still wide awake.

And it absolutely does not help that the room is stifling. Stuffy and sweaty with all the bodies of his teammates and Nekoma sprawled on the floor.

Kageyama, on the other hand, had no problem whatsoever finding sleep the moment his head hit the pillow. The jerk.

Letting out a long, frustrated breath out his nose, Hinata rolls onto his side and tucks his knees up to his chest, glaring at Kageyama resting peacefully beside him. He wants to kick him. He’d easily play it off as an accident.

After all, it’s _his_ fault that Hinata will never sleep again. And the number of times he missed the ball today because he was too busy daydreaming was unacceptable, not to mention dangerous; if Nishinoya hadn’t been there to deflect the spike that was rocketing at his face while he was fantasizing about Kageyama’s ass, he’d probably be dead.

He bunches the pillow up around his head.

This fiasco is going to ruin his life. He’s going to be kicked off the team and forced to live in a box down by the river and never even be able to admit why he lost his focus in the first place. How could he ever explain it to anyone?

Walking in on your boyfriend masturbating is one thing, but hiding around the corner and jerking off to it is inexcusable. He presses the pillow hard around his ears, squeezing his eyes closed against the sight of Kageyama; because every time he looks at him he can’t stop _seeing it_.

He’s vile.

He’s _horrid_.

He is so fucking hard right now.

Cracking one eye, he peeks at Kageyama’s face, half nestled into his pillow with the blanket tucked up under his chin. So unassuming.

Hinata slowly releases his own pillow and opens his eyes fully, unfurling his knees from his chest and stretching his legs beneath the blankets. With a slight incline of his head, he does a quick visual sweep of the room before settling back down.

Kageyama’s breaths are even and slow with his dark lashes resting softly against his cheeks—he’s definitely fast asleep.

_‘—Hina—ah—’_

Hinata gulps hard when his dick twitches.

And lying there in the dark amidst their sleeping teammates, Hinata lightly trails his fingers over the front of his shorts. He sucks in a quick breath and pushes down on himself firmly, dragging his palm up and down his length, just once. Just… testing.

_Fuck._

Hinata wants to fuck him. He _wants_ it.

He wants to feel what it’s like to slowly sink into him—how hot and tight Kageyama’s body would be. The noises he would make.

Oh god.

_Oh god._

Groaning and chomping on his lip, Hinata rolls over onto his stomach and gathers his pillow into his arms; his eyes drift closed when he rolls his hips against his bedding slowly, carefully.

But he doesn’t _want_ to be careful. He sure as fuck doesn’t want to be _quiet_. His cock throbs when he ruts downward again, imagining Kageyama’s lips parted in pure pleasure, brow furrowed in his desperation for more. For what Hinata has to give him.

More than anything Hinata wants to be the one to draw all those noises out of him. To hear Kageyama begging for him. Needing him. Needing _more_ from him.

And fuck, he wants to give him everything.

Hinata opens his eyes and turns his head.

And while he watches Kageyama sleep, he humps into the blankets, shoving his mouth into the pillow and biting at it to keep quiet. He imagines what Kageyama looks like when he comes on his fingers, what he does to himself in those final moments before he spills onto his sheets or into his fist, and it’s to this thought Hinata feels a slick pulse of precum dribble out into his shorts, warm against the lower part of his belly. He’s so hard it hurts, but oh _god_ it feels so _good_ to think about how tight and perfect it would be inside of Kageyama, because _everything_ about him is so obnoxiously perfect—

“ _Tobio—_ ” he whines, so muffled it’s silent in the dark, populated room. Widening his thighs, he shimmies until he can prop up a little on his elbows for a better angle to rub his clothed length over the bedding, whimpering and—

He pauses. And then lifts his head cautiously.

He should probably stop.

This is hardly the time or place for such a thing. So with a huff, he drops back down to continue to watch Kageyama sleep. That’s all. That’s more than enough. Just… watching.

But, _fuck_ , he just can’t help himself because it’s so _not_ nearly enough; it’s agony to keep his hands off his cock when he’s this wound up. He wants to masturbate. He wants to come. He wants to climb onto Kageyama. So he shoves his hands into his shorts and grips himself hard, biting on the edge of the blanket to dampen the sounds of his frustrated breath as he starts to pump himself.

His eyelids flutter and he tilts his hips, fucking shallowly and slowly into his fist. He should really stop doing this here and just slink off to the bathroom where he can come in peace, or at least into some toilet paper or a paper towel, but, oh. _Oh—_ that’s completely out of the question now that Kageyama’s lips have parted in his sleep, making imagining him moaning and gasping for Hinata so much sweeter; and if Hinata wanted to, he could reach up and gently touch those lips or run his fingers through Kageyama’s hair, but instead he just stills his hips and jerks himself fast, just needing it to be over so he can maybe stop being so disgusting. Yeah… yeah, this is definitely the last time he’ll do something like this. It’s _necessary_ though, he reasons—just until he can get himself under control. Just to help him think clearly. Fuck, he’s already so close. Spending half the day semi-hard will do that, and now that he’s finally about to find relief again then _maybe_ he’ll be able to concentrate on the best way to work this all out—

He freezes when Kageyama’s eyelids twitch. His heart starts pounding even harder while he watches Kageyama stir, rousing himself awake. Below the blanket his cock weeps impatiently into his shorts, thumping so hotly in his hand at the way Kageyama’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips. Hinata spits out the blanket the second blue eyes blink open.

Their gazes meet. And Kageyama scowls.

The fact that Hinata is breathing heavily doesn’t seem to escape Kageyama, and he narrows his eyes while Hinata mentally coaxes his lungs to relax.

 _“What are you doing, dumbass?”_ Kageyama whispers; well, he mostly mouths it, but it’s the only pattern of words that make sense in this situation.

Hinata swallows hard but keeps a firm grip on his cock. _“B-bad_ —” he squeaks as quiet as he can, _“bad dream.”_

Kageyama’s face softens a bit at that, but it’s still all dark and grumpy from the weight of sleep. He raises his head a little, glancing around the room.

When he lies back down, he scoots back a couple inches in his futon and then lifts the blanket, looking at Hinata expectantly. Maybe a little shyly.

Kageyama is inviting Hinata to sleep with him.

Hinata’s eyes get big and wide and he immediately shakes his head quickly in a panic, ducking the lower half of his face into his own blanket. If he sneaks into Kageyama’s futon he’ll be discovered for the pervert he so definitely absolutely undoubtedly _totally_ is. He’s breathing hard again, mostly out of fear, and he can feel his heartbeat in his length where he’s squeezing it.

But Kageyama just frowns, and by the way the hurt flickers over his tired face, Hinata can tell that he’s trying to keep the heartbreak from showing.

And Hinata’s own heart sinks.

Clearly embarrassed and sad, Kageyama lowers the blanket and turns over quickly, tugging the covers up over his shoulder and ducking his head.

Hinata feels _awful._ And painful erection or not, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he allowed Kageyama to think that he just didn’t want to sleep with him.

And so Hinata steels himself—he’d rather be perverted than heartless, and the thought of Kageyama sad makes him sick to his stomach. He yanks his hand out of his shorts and wipes it on the blanket (he’s gross, he knows) before wiggling himself over the short distance between the futons and flips up Kageyama’s blanket, slipping under it. He’s careful to keep his hips back and away from Kageyama’s ass, but it’s awkward and difficult to put his arms around him like that, so instead Hinata just clings to the back of his shirt and tips his head up to say quietly into the setter’s soft hair, 

_“I’m sorry.”_

Kageyama grumbles in return, but he doesn’t move.

Hinata frowns. _“Don’t pout, stupid,_ ” he whispers, pulling his lip between his teeth and willing away the urge to knock his hips forward.

But still, Kageyama doesn’t respond.

Alright, fine then.

Snuffling out an angry breath against the back of Kageyama’s neck before winding up, Hinata head-butts Kageyama between the shoulder-blades and hisses,

_“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, okay?!”_

“Oh my god, shut _up_ ,” an annoyed whisper hisses out over the quiet from the other side of the room. Definitely Tsukishima.

But in response to Hinata, Kageyama lifts his head and almost starts to turn; but then he just drops his head back to the pillow. 

 _“What’s that supposed to mean,”_ he rumbles lowly. He’s way better at whispering than Hinata.

And Hinata opens his mouth to answer, but the ache in his neglected cock is muddling his thoughts, so instead he screws his eyes shut and rolls his hips forward. Lets his traitorous body explain.

There’s a hissing intake of breath and Kageyama stiffens at the contact, but Hinata has to press his lips to Kageyama’s back to muffle the whimpering moan that rises from his chest.

Kageyama turns, then, halfway around and Hinata shrinks back away from him. Wide blue eyes regard him with puzzlement and alarm for several agonizing seconds before Hinata wraps his head up in his arms and tucks his chin to his chest, regretting his whole entire life and every decision he’s ever made—

_“What were you thinking about?”_

Hinata jerks from his pity party, raising his eyes to Kageyama’s.

Kageyama wets his lips, then swallows. _“What,”_ he asks pointedly when Hinata doesn’t answer _, “were you thinking about.”_

Hinata watches Kageyama roll up onto his side to face him. And while Kageyama looks into his eyes, there’s a shift beneath the blanket, and then,

_“Nngh—“_

_“Shh…”_ Kageyama hisses, palming over Hinata’s cock and leaning forward to speak against his lips, _“quiet, stupid_. _”_

Kageyama’s boldness and his eager breath against Hinata’s mouth has Hinata reeling, not to mention the long, slender fingers working their way into his shorts. Insistent. _Needing_.

 _“I’ve been thinking about you, too,”_ Kageyama admits, leaning back just enough to at Hinata’s face. _“A lot_.”

 _“Y-yeah?”_ Hinata asks stupidly, with Kageyama’s warm hand around his shaft. He’s drifting; melting into the sensation of the pad of Kageyama’s thumb rolling over and around his head and the little draw of breath sucked into the setter’s mouth when he finds Hinata wet and dripping for him.

 _“Yeah,”_ Kageyama answers huskily with a slow nod slowly before dropping his eyes to Hinata’s lips.

And Hinata can’t take it anymore.

One hand snaps to Kageyama’s wrist, stilling the hand working over his cock, and the other smooths up over Kageyama’s jaw, gripping it gently before leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.  And then Hinata breathes,

 _“turn over_.”

The request is shakier and more pleading than commanding to Hinata’s dismay, but Kageyama studies Hinata’s face for a couple breaths before doing what was asked; even in the gloom of the dark room Hinata can see the spread of pink across Kageyama’s cheeks before he looks away to roll over onto his other side.

Hinata immediately latches onto him, stuffing his face into his back and pressing his hips forward to grind against Kageyama’s ass, sighing with hot relief against the soft cotton of Kageyama’s shirt. Hinata can smell that he’s been sweating—like he said, it’s hot in the room—and that only serves to fuel the lust threading syrupy through his veins.

He can feel the way Kageyama shifts to press his face into the pillow, shuddering when Hinata grinds hard against him; and when Kageyama pushes back, Hinata forgets himself and emits a loud gasp into Kageyama’s t-shirt.

He drops an arm over Kageyama’s waist and works his other hand up beneath the setter’s body, rucking up his shirt so he can lay his palm flat against his warm chest, quivering with ragged breath. The fingers of his lower hand brush over the fabric of Kageyama’s shorts and Hinata finds him incredibly hard—too hard to have only just begun responding to Hinata’s actions.

 _What were_ you _thinking about?_ Hinata wants to ask, but from this position Hinata can’t whisper into his ear, and for the first time ever he curses their size difference—aside from volleyball reasons, of course.

But that searing heat winds through Hinata’s gut and he forgets about his question when he trails his fingers over the ridge of Kageyama’s clothed head, lingering on the soaked spot on the slippery material; and that’s when Kageyama slowly, hesitantly, folds his fingers around the hand on his chest and lifts it to his face. Hinata can feel hot breath race over his sweaty skin right before Kageyama draws two of his fingers into his mouth.

Hinata gasps and thrusts forward suddenly at the roll of Kageyama’s tongue across his knuckles, and Kageyama groans, hissing when he bites down; it’s hard and it fucking _hurts_ , but Hinata doesn’t care because he’s slowly losing control over himself from the way Kageyama is rocking back against him, grinding over Hinata and sucking obscenely on his fingers. Kageyama reaches back and wraps a big hand over Hinata’s hip to demandingly pull Hinata against him, long fingers grabbing for him. _Wanting_ him.

The silence of it lifts a dull ringing in his head, shrill but muddled in the haze and the scorching rush of blood in his ears, adding this heightened level of eroticism that Hinata just isn’t mentally prepared for, pricking tears of pleasure in his eyes. His mouth is open and slack at Kageyama’s back, heaving breath over his shirt in humid, billowing puffs in time with the growing, driving rhythm they establish.

Sliding his hand from Kageyama’s mouth, Hinata’s fingers drag down over his wet bottom lip, trailing saliva over Kageyama’s chin and down to his throat where Hinata grips him, leveraging the urgent roll of his hips. Hinata’s other hand rustles up the top leg of Kageyama’s shorts and he smooths his palm over it to anchor his fingers into the soft flesh of the inside of the setter’s strong thigh.

 _“Tobio—“_ he whimpers silently into his back, the friction clogging his mind and winding an urgency tight and low inside him.

But he needs more—fuck, _fuck_ he needs so much more; he could easily come like this but it’s just not _enough_.

Kageyama seems to read his mind.

Because Kageyama lets go of Hinata’s hip to reach for the waistband of his own shorts, fumbling in his hast to shove them down. There’s a grunt of frustration when they catch over Kageyama’s stiff cock, and Hinata would giggle if he weren’t so fucking desperate for it himself.

So he loosens his hold on Kageyama’s thigh to help get his shorts down just over his ass before doing the same to himself, shoving the damp, messy things down past his hips. And when his bare cock slides against Kageyama’s hot skin, a million little bombs set off inside him and he almost comes right then and there.

He would kill to be able to see Kageyama’s face when his cock runs smoothly up the cleft in his ass, to hear Kageyama moan for him or maybe even yell at him, ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing in some last-ditch attempt at modesty, but the needy hand reaching back and grabbing at his hip again tells Hinata that he probably wouldn’t be getting the latter, which makes it all the more agonizing that they have to keep quiet.

And so he throws his arm back around Kageyama’s chest and holds him tight while he ruts against him; Kageyama’s sweat and Hinata’s precum make the glide through the firm muscle the most intensely pleasurable thing Hinata has ever felt, but in a flash of lucidity Hinata realizes that he can hear Kageyama panting in the quiet room, and he moves the hand from Kageyama’s bobbing throat to press hard against his mouth, suppressing the urge to dip his fingers back between Kageyama’s lips. His other hand drops low again to Kageyama’s cock, only to find his own fist already coiled around it, busy with matching his strokes to every roll of Hinata’s hips.

A special jolt of electricity runs through him when his wet head rubs hard over Kageyama’s entrance, catching on it for the briefest of moments and Kageyama jerks in his arms, his startled moan vibrating against Hinata’s palm.

 _“God—”_ Hinata chokes against Kageyama’s back. He’s so close to coming he’s shaking; he can feel the rush of it in his balls, the prickling tingle of it over his skin—so powerful a feeling that it burns a trail up his spine. All worry about the other boys hearing them has fizzled away, and the only thing Hinata cares about right now is getting off with Kageyama, feeling him shiver and twitch and heavily coat their fingers when he reaches his peak. Oxygen is hard to come by with his face burrowed into Kageyama’s back, and with the sticky heat set off by their bodies beneath the blanket Hinata’s mind is dizzy and thinning from their fervor.

He feels Kageyama’s lips moving against his hand—he’s saying something, _trying_ to, over and over and over again, but Hinata doesn’t know what (it sure as fuck isn’t _stop_ ), so he keeps dragging himself up and down through Kageyama’s ass, his movements getting jerky and wild.

 _“’yama—”_ he rasps, lifting his head to press his cheek against Kageyama’s shoulder. He wants to tell him he’s about to come. He wants to shout out loud about it, to let Kageyama know how fucking _good_ he feels but he _can’t,_ he fucking _can’t_ , so instead he just whimpers, fingers scrabbling over Kageyama’s chest and slipping all over the place from his sweat before raking down to cover Kageyama’s pumping fist with his own trembling hand.

But Kageyama seems to get the message, and he nods frantically— _that’s_ what he’s saying. He’s going to come.

Hinata faintly hears someone tell them to shut up again from somewhere in the room, but it’s several miles into the background of his building ecstasy while Kageyama’s hips start to stutter against him, grinding back hard once more, right before the hand furiously working his cock stills and he stiffens and starts feeding sharp, staccato breaths to Hinata’s palm.

The outpouring of warmth soaking down over Hinata’s fingers snaps the coil wound up tight inside him in a small explosion, and he spills all over the gentle slope of Kageyama’s lower back, pulsing hot, thick streams onto his sweat-damp skin. He presses his open mouth to Kageyama’s shoulder, silently babbling his love for him over and over while they writhe together.

Hinata isn’t even finished coming when Kageyama turns in his arms to face him, so he grabs at his spurting cock, clenching it hard when Kageyama roughly and clumsily crushes their lips together and pulls Hinata to him, swallowing down Hinata’s weak, mewling gasps as he finally empties himself into his fist and between the press of their bodies.

It takes a couple of heavy, dragging breaths to get the gears of Hinata’s brain working again, and he already feels sleep washing over him in gentle, advancing waves. He’s exhausted—boneless and spent and flying high on the dregs of bliss, but he peels his eyes open to find Kageyama staring into them. He can feel his cheeks flare, burning under a light sheen of perspiration.

 _“Tob-yo_ ,” Hinata slurs quietly, bundling up to Kageyama and stuffing his face into his throat _._ It’s way too hot for Kageyama to fold his arms around him, but he does it anyway. Their shorts are still down around their thighs, legs twined, and Hinata realizes that their embrace isn’t quite as pleasant as it could be and so terribly sticky, but even when Kageyama nudges at Hinata with a roll of his shoulder, he doesn’t budge.

 _“Nn-mn,”_ Hinata hums his protest into Kageyama’s skin. Little tremors of anxiety spark and jump in Hinata’s stomach because now he has no idea whether Kageyama is going to make the connection between Hinata accidentally spying on him and what spurred _that_ risky behavior—

 _“Dumbass,”_ Kageyama hisses, “ _yes.”_

But Hinata shakes his head. He knows they are messy and gross and for the second time in two nights Hinata is grimacing at the feeling of semen drying on his skin, but he’s not sure if he can face Kageyama right now. He also doesn’t trust his jiggly legs to successfully carry him over the sleeping bodies of their teammates to go clean himself up. But Kageyama’s fingers in his hair are insistent, finally tugging Hinata’s face from where its hidden against him. He keeps his eyes shut tight.

 _“Hey,”_ Kageyama murmurs, bumping his nose against Hinata’s, _“open your eyes, idiot.”_

Against his better judgement, Hinata does. Slowly. One eye and then the other once Kageyama pulls back. To his relief, Kageyama’s gaze is lazy and lidded, and Hinata finds it almost hypnotic, pulling him down into the depths of comfort and easing the clench of worry in his stomach. But Kageyama is quick to look away, frowning when he does.

 _“Why…”_ Kageyama pauses, wetting his lips while he chooses his words. _“Where did—”_

 _“Was that bad?”_ Hinata squeaks.

Kageyama’s eyes snap to his face and he shakes his head quickly. He seems to deflate, then, pleasantly, and that same sleepy, contented look drifts over his face, and Hinata relaxes as he’s pulled back into it.

 _“mkay,”_ Hinata sighs, snuggling up against Kageyama again and tucking his head beneath his chin. He’s tired. So tired… and so very… very… sticky. He lifts his face, skimming his lips slowly over and across Kageyama’s throat and murmurs, _“feels… gross.”_

 _“Mhm,”_ Kageyama agrees, combing a hand through Hinata’s hair.

_“Should… clean up.”_

_“Mhm.”_

The last thing Hinata remembers is the vague sense of shuffling his shorts back up and Kageyama mumbling something low and unintelligible before he’s carried away on the merciful wings of a deep, contented sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The long, painfully _early_ bus ride back from Tokyo was quiet once all the jeering and catcalling aimed at them had died down and everyone just passed out in their respective seats. Kageyama doesn’t think that the team really knew the extent of their nighttime activities, what with the light, good-natured quality to the teasing—except Tsukishima _refused_ to meet his eye, and every time he caught the lanky asshole looking at him from across the aisle, his smarmy face blushed up to his ears.

Good. That’s what he gets for being a light sleeper.

Nishinoya even snapped a couple pictures of the two of them all intertwined the next morning. Kageyama pretended like he didn’t hear Hinata discretely ask to be sent the photos.

Which reminds him—

Kageyama slips his phone out of his pocket and sends a text off to the libero asking the same thing.

He checks the time on the device before setting it on the kitchen counter beside him. Then he crosses his arms and glances at the clock above the stove. Almost six.

Same as his phone.

_Idiot._

Hinata should be there soon.

It’s not like he’s _nervous_ or anything. Hinata has been to his house probably hundreds of times. Although… never quite like this before.

Especially after what happened last night.

Alright. He’s nervous as hell.

Hinata asked to come to Kageyama’s house immediately once they got back to the school, but with how comatose he was on the bus, Kageyama insisted that he go home and sleep in his own bed for a couple hours.

Plus, Kageyama needed some time to get ready.

Not _that_ much time. He’s only cooking dinner, despite teasing Hinata that Hinata is the one who owes _him_ dinner, but that meant he had to walk to and from the store and spend a considerable amount of time staring at his mother’s recipe book to try to figure out just what the hell it is he’s trying to make.

Thank god rice and egg bowls are so easy, _and_ happen to be Hinata’s favorite. But he still bought a frozen pizza just in case.

He even made a second trip to the store to buy some candles. Is six too many?

He should have gotten eight. No. Ten. Ten! For Hinata’s Jersey number.

Dammit. There’s no time to go back to the store.

The dumbass is always spouting off about romantic things, and after what happened last night Kageyama just...

Sighing heavily, he rubs his hands up and down his hot face. Last night was…

Fuck.

Every time his brain tumbles back to Hinata slipping into his futon, a rush of scorching heat lances through him and that’s where his mind sticks and lingers—on the little mewls pressed against his back. The thickness to Hinata’s length when it spread his cheeks. How _hot_ and _wet_ it was and how only moments prior Kageyama had been dreaming about having Hinata over him. Stretching him. _Filling_ him—

And, really, _that’s_ what Kageyama needed the most time for—to… to _process_ what Hinata did last night. What _they_ did last night. And to wash his sheets and shower after processing it all again.

And then… just once more.

 _“Shit,”_ Kageyama mutters, dropping his hands to run his palms flat up and down his thighs. Just those few seconds of a memory have him half-hard in his jeans and his blood set to boil. Not enough time has passed for the novelty to have worn off and all he’s been able to do is think about it. The bus ride was absolute torture—Hinata kept falling asleep all over him and dropping his head into his lap and pawing at his thighs to try and get comfortable, and if he doesn’t settle down he’s going to jump Hinata the moment he walks through the door.

Hinata has always driven him crazy. No. Like, _real_ crazy. To the very limits of his sanity. To where orange hair and honey eyes occupied the whole of his mind, threatening to squeeze out the edges of his love for volleyball. And they fuzzed, for sure. Until Hinata fused with it. Hurling Kageyama so far and deep into a love so dire he sometimes thought he might buckle beneath its power. And this was _before_ they started dating. There was no outlet for his feelings, then—he had no experience in dealing with the cataclysmic, nameless longing that clenched his stomach and wore him thin. Every day was torture. Every day it just got _worse._

And then Hinata kissed him.

And the ache he held firmly behind his ribs shifted and warped. Blossomed into a new need that he’d never felt before. It’s all encompassing. Completely preoccupying. Obsessive. _Embarrassingly_ so; and Kageyama has been desperately trying to keep his desires under control. Allowing them to trickle out at a steady flow as their relationship unfolds.

Kageyama doesn’t want to scare him.

Even though it’s all _his_ fault that Kageyama is like this. Hinata _made_ him this way. Because Hinata _gives._

He gave Kageyama a place to belong on the court. He gave him safety and peace. A new beginning. Love.

It’s just Hinata’s nature to give. 

But now Kageyama wants to be taken. To be owned. Claimed. An emptiness has been steadily swelling inside of him since last night, low and hot and throbbing. It’s been there all along, since the first time Hinata put his hands on him, but now it’s bordering on unbearable. He _needs—_

He lurches from his thoughts at the sound of the doorbell.

His heart rate skyrockets and there’s a few moments of panic when he knocks one of the candles off the table when his trembling hands go to light it, but the little jar doesn’t break despite the frightful crash it makes against the floor. He scoops it up and takes care in lighting the rest, and he places them in random spots around the kitchen.

The rice is in the cooker and he artfully arranges all the little spice dishes around the matching table settings and checks that they have eggs for, like, the tenth time, but then he can’t figure out if he should turn the lights off _now_ or keep them on, what with the candles and everything, so he flicks the lights off… then back on… no, off… no… on… okay no they were better off, yeah but when they’re on he can… no wait definitely off—

“Kageyama?” Hinata’s hesitant voice calls out from down the hall. “Are you okay? I… s-sorry, I heard a crash. Why’s it so dark?”

He’s leaving them off.

“It’s fine,” Kageyama answers back, praying that the tremor doesn’t sound in his voice. He’s not entirely sure what to do with himself, so he just steps away from the light switch and stands awkwardly by the table. “I just—” he sighs, “come in here, stupid.”

“Kageyamaaaa,” Hinata whines, “why are all the lights off? You’re not trying to—oh… wow, it smells good in here… like… rice and… flowery stuff. What are—” Hinata’s head pokes around the corner, face in a soft flickering shadow, but Kageyama can see when his eyes light up, and a second later he leaps fully into the doorway and his messenger bag slides to the floor. “ _Uwahh!_ You cooked!? Kageyama!”

And Kageyama can’t help the dopey grin that slides onto his face. But he jams his hands into his pockets when Hinata approaches from around the table. “I pretty much just made rice. It’s nothing.”

“It’s… wonderful,” Hinata praises, eyeing the properly-set table and all the little dishes.

“I um,” Kageyama mutters, “don’t really know what you like to put in your rice bowls so… I gave you options.” His eyes roam down over Hinata’s body as he _gwaah_ ’s and _ooh_ ’s over Kageyama’s attempt at making a meal, and Kageyama notes the strangeness of Hinata’s clothes—jeans and a nice, stripy sweater. Not the usual gym shorts and rumpled practice tee that he usually wears. Which is absolutely Kageyama’s favorite version of him, don’t get him wrong.

But the dumbass dressed up for him. And this look could easily become a favorite, too.

 “I really like the candles,” Hinata says quietly, his attention shifting to Kageyama, eyes shining in the glowing light.

“Good.” Kageyama says. His heart is pounding and he steps forward, moving to collect Hinata in his arms, but before he can, Hinata reaches up to cup Kageyama face in his hands and pulls him down, enough to reach, but he still rises up onto his toes.

There’s fire in Hinata’s kiss, his lips rivaling the flames harnessed to the candle wicks as they press against Kageyama’s; except Hinata’s flame doesn’t waver when they breathe into it. It flares and it spreads when their lips part, roving down through the whole of Kageyama’s body and kindling the blaze that’s been smoldering deep inside him. Hinata’s lips move over his, slow and craving, and when Hinata’s hand moves from his face to twist in his hair, his other arm winding around Kageyama’s neck, Kageyama rolls his tongue into Hinata’s mouth and catches the low, throaty moan that Hinata gives to him and feeds one back in return. He runs his hands down over Hinata’s sides and his fingers slip up under his sweater to brush against the soft skin—first just fingertips, then palms, smoothing over the small of his back and then dragging higher and higher.

When Hinata’s touch finally drops to grip Kageyama’s shoulders and Hinata falls back onto his heels, Kageyama chases the kiss, rejoining their lips assertively. Greedy.

Hinata gasps a little and his back bows when Kageyama’s hand drops to the base of his spine, holding Hinata to him while small hands bunch into the fabric of his shirt.

He knows Hinata can feel him responding to the kiss—responding to _him_ , where he’s swelling through his jeans and pressing against Hinata’s belly—and Kageyama thinks for one fleeting second to feel self-conscious, but then Hinata makes a soft, needy sound low in his throat and Kageyama surges forward, shifting his hands beneath Hinata’s ass and—

 _“Ah—”_ Hinata sighs out sharply when Kageyama’s hoists him easily to the table and moves between his parted thighs; and when strong legs wrap around him, Kageyama can feel just how affected Hinata is, too.

“’ya—‘ _yama—”_ Hinata breathes against his lips, grabby, eager hands tugging at Kageyama’s hips, snagging fingers into his belt loops—as if they’re not already so impossibly close.

“S-sorry,” Kageyama whispers. Not sure if doing that was too bold of a move—putting Hinata on furniture just so he can feel him better. Kageyama withdraws just enough so he can watch Hinata’s face for any signs of annoyance. But what he gets to see instead is the way Hinata comes back from their kiss; Hinata’s lashes flutter and his wet, flushed lips stay parted, and Kageyama can see how he has to work his tongue to the roof of his mouth to swallow, muscles working awkwardly in his jaw, still too kiss-drunk to function. And just knowing he has that effect on Hinata makes his heart quiver and soar and ache with more emotion than he’d ever thought possible.

Honey eyes slowly blink open when Kageyama raises a shaky hand and traces the lines of Hinata’s lips with his thumb, but those eyes close again and Hinata follows the touch, tilting his head into it and moaning softly. His breath catches when the digit dips against the inside of his lower lip, the pad of it grazing over his teeth. And then Hinata slides his eyes open halfway, flicking his tongue against Kageyama’s skin, and Kageyama loses himself in that dark, hungry gaze.

His tenuous grip on self-control is slipping. Like a fucking landslide.

“We should… eat,” Kageyama says stupidly. He can’t help the whimper that pulls from his throat or the pant to his breath when Hinata’s thighs squeeze around his waist and he tilts his hips forward, bracing a hand behind himself (careful to not upset the dishes) and throwing an arm around Kageyama’s neck to anchor him in place while he slowly… achingly… starts to rock his hips against Kageyama.

“Yeah,” Hinata answers, quiet and breathless and gazing directly into Kageyama’s eyes while he rubs against him. “Let’s— _ah—_ do that.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Kageyama groans. The pace is _crawling_ , tormenting in the most sensually beautiful way, and when he closes his eyes he sees bursts of white, blinding light.

But as powerful as this feeling is, there’s an emptiness inside of him that _throbs_ in response to the slow, languid grind of Hinata’s cock against his through their jeans. Fuck—if Hinata knows just how to bow every one of his strings into singing with all their clothes still in place, he trembles at the very _thought_ of having him inside him.

Kageyama wants to rock forward into the friction, but oh, _oh_ the sweetness of the measured drag of Hinata’s fluid hips makes his thoughts heavy, and he just sighs out his nose and drops his hands to the table, gripping the edge and letting Hinata move as he may.

Because he’s _good_. He’s so fucking good that if Kageyama weren’t always so drunk on pleasure he’d openly wonder where the hell Hinata even _learned_ this kind of thing.

But this is nothing new.

This is how it always feels. This building, simmering euphoria… it never drains from Hinata’s touch. This is the power Hinata wields over him. This is what he _does_ to him.

Every. Single. Time.

“ _Tobio_ —”

At Hinata’s low, breathy call, Kageyama pries his eyes open; Hinata is still staring at him, his features soft and glowing in the candle light. _Gorgeous_ , Kageyama thinks. Yes, Hinata is still a loud, clumsy human disaster most of the time, but it’s precisely that contrast between his rowdy personality and the moments reserved just for Kageyama when he’s quiet and smooth and soft. Just _being_ and _existing_ with Kageyama— _giving_ Kageyama this part of him.

But sometimes Kageyama gets the impression that the dumbass doesn’t even know how he makes Kageyama’s head spin. Or what he’s given to Kageyama. Sometimes it’s as if Hinata has absolutely no understanding of the depth to his feelings or how he stirs him up so completely that he’s _terrified_ of the desperation. Of the _need_ that he’s been forced to keep under strict lock and key. Denying himself of what Hinata has to offer for fear that he will spiral out of control. They’ve only been together for a couple weeks, for fuck’s sake! Hinata would think he’s crazy, or… maybe gross, or something. But oh _god_ he just can’t help it.

He wants him so bad it hurts.

“So _—_ romantic,” Hinata husks—but it’s rough and strained. Almost like Hinata is in pain, too. “Kage— _touch me—“_ he pleads, brows knit. There’s an odd rhythm building in his breathing. Erratic. _Loud._

Kageyama doesn’t waste a second. He growls as his hands move, almost of their own accord, fingers of one stuffing into red hair to drag Hinata’s mouth back to his while the other eagerly drops between them, palm smoothing over the solid bulge straining beneath Hinata’s tight jeans.

Hinata lurches and keens against Kageyama’s lips and his hands fly to Kageyama’s chest, fingers joining with the fabric of his shirt, knotting up into it so tight it’s as if he fears one of them will be swept away.

To tell the truth, Kageyama is close, but he’s taking Hinata with him.

 

“ _Fu—ah—Kage—“_ Hinata gasps, his whole body jerking and shuddering at the fingers working between his legs—groping and pressing and oh _god_ the way Kageyama groans and tightens his hold on Hinata’s hair makes Hinata’s dick throb under the touch. Goddamn these jeans he agonized over. Thinking he should make some sort of an effort tonight. The concept of the stupid piece of clothing makes him curse the whole fashion industry and the horrid sadists who assault humanity with an idea so fucking heinous as _denim_. There’s too much in the way—thick fabric and zippers and—

“Let me.” Kageyama’s voice is thick, breath warm and panting on Hinata’s lips and he’s already easing the zipper down before Hinata can respond.

It’s like they’ve somehow maintained the same level of need since the night prior, the time spanning the morning and bus ride and afternoon was just some kind of intermission.

And act two is about to begin.

The curl of Kageyama’s hand around his cock makes Hinata sob and he falls against Kageyama, crushing their mouths together, tongues messy and rolling as Kageyama jerks him slowly, once, twice, grip gliding from base to tip.

“So… wet.” The fact that Kageyama breaks their kiss to point this out while he rolls his thumb over Hinata’s weeping head makes his entire body _burn_ and hips jump.

“Don’t— _say_ those things!” Hinata whines pitifully, wanting very _very_ much for Kageyama to say all sorts of those kinds of things. “Tobio—” he whimpers, “I want—I want _more—”_

“What do you want?” Kageyama asks, tugging gently at the hair at the back of Hinata’s head, urging him to raise his eyes.

Hinata just whines again, long and high and wordless, with his bottom lip in his teeth and their gazes locked. That hand is still moving between his legs, spreading the slick fluid down over his shaft. Hinata can’t help but rock his hips up into it, and blue eyes flicker down to watch the flushed head, shiny in the candle light, slip in and out of his fingers.

“Tell me—“

“ _You,_ ” Hinata croons; the word pulls Kageyama’s eyes back to his and they’re darker now, somehow. Dangerous. The setter swallows hard and rasps out,

“You have me.”

But Hinata shakes his head sharply. “No, n-not— _Kageyama—”_ he crumples against him. How is he supposed to tell him this? _Why_ he’s in such a desperate state? He feels so terrible that Kageyama went to all the trouble of making him dinner and setting the table and buying _candles_ for fuck sake, just for him, and all Hinata can think about is—

“Last night—” he bleats against Kageyama’s shirt. “You—y-you felt—”

“It was amazing,” Kageyama breathes, dropping his head to speak against Hinata’s ear. “You felt so good—”

“and—“ brown eyes screw down and Hinata chokes out, “—t-the night before—”

“Night before?” the setter asks, hand slowing over Hinata’s cock. “What… we didn’t…” his hand stops completely. “Wait... you—“

“Oh _god_ , Kageyama!” Hinata blurts suddenly. He feels the last thread of his self-control fray and snap and he lunges forward, catching Kageyama completely off guard and off balance, sending them both crashing hard to the floor.

“Dumbass!—“

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m _sorry—”_ Hinata babbles, climbing up over Kageyama, straddling his waist as his frantic hands paw and tug at the hem of the setter’s shirt, desperately trying to yank it up over his head. And with the pale expanse of skin of Kageyama’s chest now for the taking, Hinata abandons his goal in removing the shirt and just descends, pressing wet, open mouth kisses to the warm flesh and whimpering, leaving Kageyama half-tangled and struggling to shed the garment the rest of the way.

“What the fuck—”

“I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry_ —” Hinata keeps declaring, frantically, but the words are coarse and breathy, pressed into warm skin as he drags his lips down flexing, twitching abs while the setter tries to sit up with his head and arms all wound up. “I just—I want you so _bad—”_ Hinata runs his hands over the front of Kageyama’s jeans, fingers briefly curling into the waistband before sliding roughly over his cock.

“ _Fuck—”_ Kageyama hisses, finally extricating himself from his shirt and immediately grabbing for Hinata’s hair, but he doesn’t pull him away. Hinata rolls his eyes up while his mouth travels lower to join his hands, lips open and pushing hard to the tented fabric and watching Kageyama’s face dissolve into pleasure, hair completely disheveled and eyes hooded.

“Please— _please_ —” Hinata drawls, his own hips are rocking in an embarrassing display of neediness, rutting his bare cock against Kageyama’s leg. But he doesn’t care. He _wants_.

“Please—w-what?” Kageyama sounds wrecked already and Hinata hasn’t even started. Fuck, he doesn’t know if Kageyama will even let him start.

“I—I want to—” Hinata’s own voice sounds weird to him—deep and rough and too far away and his fingers go for the button on Kageyama’s jeans, tugging madly until it finally gives and then he works at the zipper, wasting no time in parting the fabric of the jeans and getting both hands into Kageyama’s boxers.

Kageyama hisses out a groan and bucks his hips, his fingers untwining from Hinata’s hair to smack his palms onto the floor behind his body to stabilize himself when both of Hinata’s hands close around him. The speed of Kageyama’s breathing steadily increases as Hinata stares at the dick in front of his face—hard and flushed and leaking.

“Tobio,” Hinata whines for the millionth time, his stomach pulling on the way Kageyama’s flesh twitches in his hands at the sound of his name. Hinata wants to rub his face on it—get it between his lips and let the dripping head slide back deeper and deeper over his tongue. Wants to beg for it, really. But Kageyama is looking at him with those frightened eyes, lips all kiss-swollen and parted and emitting these quick, ragged breaths—

“ _Please,”_ Kageyama breathes, one of his hands tremulously sliding back into red hair while Hinata slowly starts to pump him, watching his mouth work around the word. And now he can see it; Hinata can see that the expression that he once thought to communicate fear is actually woven so intricately with pure, unyielding desire that it sends electricity shooting up his spine and shorting out his brain.  “Shou-Shouyou,” Kageyama says in that same graveled rasp, “ _more_.”

That last word. A plea. Almost a question. So quiet that Hinata barely heard it at all.

But he did.

Oh, fuck, did he ever.

“Ah—” Hinata’s crackling voice falls out of him and his eyes drop to the slick, swollen head going in and out from his hands. He almost loses himself to the urge to dive that last final inch and slam Kageyama’s length down his throat; there’ve been too many wet dreams, too many hours fantasizing and researching have gone into this moment for it to not go… well, _perfectly_ might be a little too ambitious, but he wants to make it good. He _needs_ Kageyama to feel good. Despite every cell in his body screaming at him to just stuff himself with Kageyama’s cock he _has_ to do this right.

And then that image of Kageyama from the other night settles into his mind again. Folded onto himself. Legs spread. Fingers buried to the knuckle.

_Shit._

Hinata swallows thickly and then parts his lips, leaning in close; he corrals every single secret tip he’s read on the subject of blowjobs into the forefront of his mind. And then, in one streaming release of breath, casts them all out and away.

He’s doing this his way.

Kageyama tenses and eeks out a small whimper at the gust of breath puffing over his head and Hinata blinks up to drink in the soft, flickering glow in Kageyama’s cheeks. Lips shiny, panting. Eyes dark and pleading, but impatient, too—like when Hinata fucks around at the end of practice when they’re supposed to be collecting the balls or taking down the net.

Shit. He’ll never see that look the same way again.

And so he drops his gaze back to the task at hand and swipes his tongue across his lips—mostly out of nervousness. No. _Mostly_ because he wants to give Kageyama the most pleasurable slide possible into his waiting mouth. Totally intentional. And when he wets them again, once more for good measure, fingers twist hard in his hair, scratching almost painfully at his scalp, but he moans at the familiar feeling, mouth falling open a little.

If Kageyama isn’t careful, Hinata will never feel the same about that hair pulling thing, either.

He tries to scowl, but whatever look he aims back up at Kageyama has the setter’s breath hitching and flesh thumping in Hinata’s hands.

“Hinata…” he sounds so pained, brows slanting with something like desperation.

Hinata nods, once, wondering if the heart pounding away in his throat is going to get in the way of this, if his trembling hands are going to shake his two-handed grip loose, so he tightens it, and then,

The first lick to Kageyama’s cock is decidedly tentative; a slow, experimental drag of his tongue up the underside of the head that finishes at the leaking slit, making Kageyama hiss in sharply through his teeth and bodily shudder under Hinata. It leaves him panting, and when Hinata rolls his eyes up and tilts his head to the side to watch Kageyama’s face when he licks him again, the needy, awestruck look he’s met with sends a surge of heat coursing through his body and he can’t help the downward jerk of his own hips or the high-pitched whine that rattles out of him.

With his tongue back in his mouth, Hinata presses his lips together, rubbing them back and forth a little, and lets his eyes fall shut. The flavor spreading over his tongue is heady, far saltier than he expected but there’s a clean taste to it, too. Velvety, but bitter.

Tastes like Kageyama _._

Not like how it tastes to kiss him, or how the damp skin of his neck tastes after practice when Hinata tries to make out with him in the club room, before a wide palm shoves against his face and Kageyama tries to bury his burning cheeks in the far back of his locker.

He realizes it might be a little weird. Just… tasting. _Savoring_ the slickness that’s leaking obscenely, now, down over his knuckles. But Hinata has always been sort of weird when it comes to Kageyama. And with the way Kageyama is looking at him when Hinata’s eyelids drag back up—eyes blown and glassy in the candlelight—makes him realize that there is absolutely nothing weird about it at all and he simmers even hotter from head to toe, so badly needing more of Kageyama in his mouth.

But first,

“Off,” Hinata demands with a grunt, messy hands grabbing at Kageyama’s hips and fingers curling under the band of his jeans, yanking hard. “Pants off—hurry.”

And suddenly Kageyama is scrambling, too; hands flying to help Hinata get his jeans and boxers off completely. So wound up he doesn’t even laugh when Hinata falls backwards onto his ass after frantically tugging at the bottom of the pant legs to get them all the way off. He drags Hinata back to him by the collar of his sweater and then pulls it over his head.

Naked, now, Kageyama practically collapses back against the cabinets behind him as Hinata dives back between his legs, dropped down low and hands pushing at the soft insides of Kageyama’s thighs to spread him wide.

He shoves his lips up against the shaft, pushing Kageyama’s cock against his tense stomach so he can lap at it and feel those strong thighs twitch with every pass of his tongue. There’s a fist in his hair, pulling, and dull nails scratch over a shoulder, but it’s the whimpered, clipped versions of his name spilling over Kageyama’s lips that infuses him with a rabid need and he slips the swollen head into his mouth, fingers dragging roughly over Kageyama’s skin to circle again around the thick base.

“Hina—Sh-shou— _fuck—”_ Kageyama sobs when Hinata bobs his head down, taking in as much of that cock as he can get before he gags and his eyes water—too eager, too desperate, he knows, and his mouth floods with saliva that dribbles past his lips and onto his fingers, but Hinata just uses that to slick his palms and pump Kageyama while he gets his bearings, pulling his mouth off for a breath before sinking back down.

Kageyama is so _hot_ inside his mouth and all he wants to do is get him deeper, feel that heat in his throat and amplify those choked noises echoing around their corner of the kitchen. He has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, and part of him wants to tell Kageyama about it, but that would mean taking his cock out of his mouth and—

“Please don’t—don’t stop—” both of those big hands are now gripping his head and Kageyama’s hips are stuttering, shaking, like it’s killing him to keep them still and not thrust into Hinata’s mouth and _fuck,_ the thought of that makes him have to shove a hand down between his own legs to grip himself, and when he moans around Kageyama’s shaft, the setter cries out and slams his head back against the cabinets behind him. “ _Shit—ah—_ d-do that again—” he begs, knees raising up on either side of Hinata and feet slipping all over the floor. “Hinata—please—”

Hinata squeezes his lips tighter and flattens his tongue and moans again for both of them, drawing his mouth up and down shallowly and using his hand to work the hot, silky skin that he can’t get any farther inside without choking himself. His own hips start rocking helplessly, driving his cock in and out of his coiled fist.

“Shou—Shouyou—” Kageyama keeps chanting, over and over and Hinata can’t get enough of it, of the salty fluid mixing with his own spit and running past his hungry lips. Of the fingers knotting into his hair and the lurch of Kageyama’s hips as he struggles to stay still. “Fuck—you look—s-so good—doing that—”

Hinata gasps at the disarmingly honest tone to Kageyama’s rough, breathless voice. Like he’s not being dirty or sexy or seductive, but he genuinely wants Hinata to know that he looks good.

Doing _that._

And it might be from the lack of oxygen from having a cock (almost) buried in his throat or from the musky, manly scent of Kageyama occupying all the parts of him that that once thrived on something as pointless as _air_ , or from the way the shattered, bleating cries of Hinata’s name sound the same as when Kageyama was fucking himself on his fingers, but what’s happening right now is merging with what Hinata heard that night and his mind won’t stop spinning with those images; all his senses mingling with the memory as he keeps bobbing his head, sucking and licking and he releases his own dick and presses that hand hard to the inside of Kageyama’s thigh, thumb tracing down over Kageyama’s balls in a way that makes him jerk and whine, his touch drifting lower and lower and—

“ _FUCK—”_ Kageyama _wails_ , his deep voice rattling Hinata’s insides and all the dishes in the cupboards when Hinata’s thumb grazes over his hole, and suddenly there’s a hot burst of liquid gushing over Hinata’s tongue and flooding into his throat while Kageyama’s hips twitch and buck.

Startled, Hinata pulls off Kageyama with a wet _fwah!_ and cum pours from his mouth, down over his chin and more hits his parted, panting lips before Kageyama grabs at the tip of his own cock, catching the rest of his orgasm in his trembling hand.

Hinata blinks rapidly, first down at Kageyama’s hand once his hips still and then back up at Kageyama’s flushed face, eyes still dark and wild while they stare at each other, gasping for breath, and then—

“ _Ah!”_ Hinata instinctually lurches backwards when Kageyama moves to grab for him with that crazed look in his eye, but the setter catches him by the shoulders and crushes his body to him, capturing Hinata’s mouth in a searing, absolutely _vulgar_ kiss that has Hinata’s eyes flying completely wide when Kageyama’s tongue slips in past his messy lips, and then has him yielding to it when Kageyama groans against him, caving against Kageyama’s sweat-slick chest and winding his arms around his neck and climbing into his lap. Kageyama moves against him with an eagerness suggesting that he didn’t just come all over Hinata’s face, and when Hinata unwinds and arm to drop a hand between them he finds Kageyama still half-hard. Hinata moans and starts to stroke him again.

But Kageyama has other plans.

He stills Hinata’s movements with a firm hand around his wrist; and when he pulls back from the kiss to trade a serious gaze with Hinata, he slowly, carefully, lowers Hinata’s hand—

“You saw me,” Kageyama rumbles, pressing Hinata’s hand down against the very inside of his thigh. “Didn’t you?”

An instant flush prickles over Hinata’s already burning skin, and at first he wants to deny it, but when Kageyama guides his fingers closer to his entrance, Hinata bumps their foreheads together and nods.

“I did—” Hinata has to lick his dry lips, “I’m sorry—“

“Please fuck me,” Kageyama he begs quietly in a way that makes Hinata’s world shift. “Please, I—I want it. I _need_ you.”

“You do?” Hinata asks stupidly, moving back just enough to see Kageyama’s face when he answers.

“Yes, dumbass,” the setter scolds. But he jerks his eyes away, almost embarrassed at the admission. “I could kill you, though.”

Hinata cocks his head, blinking. And then a small smile alights on his face. “You sure about that?”

Flashing blue eyes snap back. “Yes, you idiot! How could you— _ohh—”_ Kageyama’s voice disappears in a moan when Hinata rubs two fingers hard over his hole, heart jumping in his chest at the lost look of desire that ghosts over Kageyama’s face. “Oh yes— _yes—”_

“Yeah,” Hinata breathes, teasing that spot again and bringing his lips to Kageyama’s ear. “You sure you want to kill me? Or would you rather—”

“Yes, that,” Kageyama pants. “Upstairs. Now.”

“W-wait! Which one!?” Hinata cries as Kageyama hauls them both to their feet. Hinata trips and scrambles to hold his pants up with one hand while Kageyama drags him out of the kitchen by the other.

There’s a small pit stop on the stairs where Kageyama gets annoyed by all the stumbling and shoves Hinata down against the steps, covering his mouth with his own while he pulls his pants and boxers off and tosses them down onto the landing below, and the next thing Hinata knows he’s climbing up over Kageyama in his bed in the bluish haze of the night, and Kageyama’s long arms are encircling him tightly, pulling him down between his spread legs.

He’s fully hard again— _Kageyama_ is, he means. Hinata is _still_ hard and he feels himself throb when their cocks glide together, like they have so many times before. Only it’s different, this time. And Hinata feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. He leans down to press his lips against Kageyama’s rapidly rising and falling chest, then his collar bone, and then his tongue traces a line up over his throat as he slides up the setter’s trembling body.

“I love you so much,” Hinata whispers shakily, nudging his nose against Kageyama’s cheek before placing a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re sure? About this?”

Kageyama nods and closes his eyes, skimming his fingers up Hinata’s sides before sliding his palms flat against his shoulder blades. Hinata rises up, caging Kageyama with his arms, and stares down at him with a fondness that’s a little too much to bear. Might make him embarrassed if Kageyama’s eyes were to flutter open.

This person. His setter. The most talented and beautiful athlete Hinata has ever known in his short time in this world is lying beneath him, vulnerable and open and waiting for _him_ to do...

Ah…

_Something._

“Um… Tobio?”

“Drawer,” Kageyama murmurs, tracing soft little circles at the base of Hinata’s neck and bleeding just a bit of the tension out of his shoulders.

Hinata stretches an arm over to the nightstand and shimmies his way up Kageyama’s body to tug open the drawer and rustle around until his hand closes around a small, plastic bottle near the back; he squeals in surprise when Kageyama nips at his navel.

“Stupid,” Hinata says through a wide, shaky smile when he realigns his face with Kageyama’s. “You want me to squirt this stuff everywhere?”

“The cap is still on, idiot.”

“Yeah, well!” Hinata pushes into a sitting position, his legs parted over Kageyama’s waist. “My hands are really strong!” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Mm… they are,” Kageyama agrees, tugging one of Hinata’s arms loose to press their palms together.

“Not as strong as yours, though,” Hinata mumbles, frowning at their joined hands.

“Mine are just bigger,” Kageyama says.

But Hinata is still staring at the way Kageyama’s hand dwarfs his own; how the setter’s long fingers could probably bend at the second knuckle and fold over Hinata’s. Not quite. But almost. His brows pinch.

“What’s wrong?” Kageyama asks, lowering their hands.

Hinata chews on the inside of his cheek for a couple seconds before he answers, quietly, eyes dropping to where he’s fiddling with the bottle of lube with his other hand, “what if it doesn’t feel as good?”

“What if what doesn’t?”

Hinata swallows. “My… my, um, f-fingers.”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama grumbles, predictably. And one of those long digits flicks beneath Hinata’s chin, tilting his gaze back up. “It’ll feel amazing. And besides—” Hinata keens when Kageyama wraps a warm hand around him. “That’s not the endgame, is it?”

“Mm…” Hinata’s head lolls on his shoulders and he shakes it, back and forth slowly to answer Kageyama’s question. “Are you r-ready? Now?” Hinata stutters breathlessly while Kageyama strokes him achingly slow.

“Yeah… wait…” Kageyama says when he reaches up and pulls Hinata down to him, sliding their lips together once more, briefly. “Do you… know what you’re doing?” he asks softly when they part.

Hinata thinks about it for a second; while he does, in theory, understand what he’s supposed to do… putting that knowledge into practice is suddenly a little more daunting than he ever imagined. So he bites his lip and shakes his head.

This, for some reason, is an acceptable answer, and Kageyama nods. “Just…” he starts, rolling his head on his pillow to look away, “gentle.”

Well _that’s_ just not fair, and something swells almost painfully in Hinata’s chest. He bites down on his lip and whines as he crawls his way down Kageyama’s body, kissing over his broad chest, down his abs, running his lips across to the sensitive underside of Kageyama’s cock before he rests between the setter’s long legs again.

He’s doing this. _They_ are actually doing this.

He blinks over to the little tube clutched in his fist and pops the plastic cap with his thumb—Kageyama startles at the noise, breath coming fast and short and the setter throws an arm over his face.

Hinata frowns. “Are you—”

“Fine—” Kageyama pants, fingers of his other hand fisted so tight in the comforter it’s shaking. “Good. I-I’m good.”

 _Maybe_ they’re doing this.

“We don’t have to—”

“Please, just _hurry_.” The setter’s voice breaks on his plea, and Hinata yelps, hastily turning the bottle on its end and drizzling _way_ too much liquid over his palm and fingers and then he drops the thing beside him on the bed.

“Tobio,” Hinata drops his voice low and lays his un-lubed hand against the inside of Kageyama’s thigh, pushing at it a little to spread those strong legs wider for him. “I’m… I’m going to… touch you now, okay?”

There’s something like a whimper that precedes a long, slow release of breath and Kageyama nods.

Hinata leans in and kisses the hot, twitching muscle of Kageyama’s thigh, mouthing over the flesh and kneading the other leg with his fingers, coaxing and stroking him pliant with ghosting fingertips, featherlight down to the inside of his knee and then back up again, slow and doting, making Kageyama shiver. He wishes he hadn’t jumped the gun and coated the fingers of one hand so slick that now it’s running down his wrist where he holds it up awkwardly, elbow posted firmly against the mattress, but he’ll do what he can to get Kageyama to relax. He’s going to make this good. He _is._ And under Hinata’s serving touch, Kageyama starts to loosen, muscles calming. His hand no longer clutching the bedding like he’s expecting gravity to fail.

“Mm…’yama,” Hinata breathes, nuzzling at the crease in Kageyama’s hip before laving slow, syrupy affection to the base of his cock. “You ready?” he asks against the warm skin.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kageyama groans, lowering the arm that was covering his face to instead comb his fingers through Hinata’s messy hair.

Hinata blows out a stabilizing breath and rolls his dripping fingers together, nudging Kageyama thighs even wider with his other hand to absolutely no resistance. Kageyama is willingly opening for him.  

Hinata swallows, heart slamming out of control in his chest.

The first slick pass over Kageyama makes his hole twitch and his whole body jerk, but the graveled moan that tears from his throat lets Hinata know that it’s all out of _need_ , not out of fear or apprehension, and so he uses his index finger to circle him gently, fingertip prodding and skimming over the puckered flesh. And then he increases the pressure.

Kageyama cries out when Hinata’s digit slides past that slick ring of muscle, his body giving up minimal protest upon the intrusion and his back arching off the mattress as Hinata presses in deeper and deeper, until his entire finger is enveloped in tight heat. He takes a shaky breath and drags it out, slowly, half way, and then pushes back in. Then he does it again. And again.

“I-is it okay?” Hinata asks nervously, eyes glued to Kageyama’s face.

“Different—” Kageyama gasps, eyes shut tight, “w-weird—but keep going.”

Hinata nods, dropping breathy, open-mouthed kisses to Kageyama’s hips, his stomach, his dripping cock, to do all he can to lull him from squirming against the sheets to arcing his back a little off the bed. Body starting to roll with the slide of Hinata’s finger, and breath going from rocky, to smooth, to thready.

The way Kageyama’s hole clenches around him—the way he starts rocking his hips to meet Hinata’s hand and his feet dig hard into the bed when Hinata experimentally curls his finger makes Hinata’s blood rush too quickly and he’s suddenly dizzy, so short of breath that he has to drop his cheek to the bunching muscles of Kageyama’s stomach, head angled up to watch the setter’s jaw fall slack, throat working around the frantic intake and expulsion of breath.

“A-another,” Kageyama gasps, hands grappling for the comforter. “Hinata—please—give me—”

Hinata is almost certain he’s going to faint when he works in a second finger; his heartbeat spikes so suddenly it aches in his chest and in his ears where it’s hammering loudly—almost loud enough to drown out the breathy mewling sounds coming from Kageyama—

Oh, wait, no. Those are coming from _him._

Well. Both of them.

His own body is hot all over, and the writhing twist of Kageyama’s hips makes his cock twitch and tongue pant against his bottom lip—as if he’s the one with fingers curling and thrusting inside him, seeking and probing and stretching and _fuck_ , it certainly isn’t something he’d be opposed to. Not if Kageyama is reacting this way. Not if it would be _Kageyama’s_ perfect fingers stretching him open. Kageyama is making these noises like maybe it hurts, maybe it just a little too much, but his legs keep spreading wider and his back arches every time Hinata quirks his fingers, and oh god oh _god_ those _noises_ far surpass what he heard that night from down the hall with his hand pumping furiously over his cock, and Hinata thinks he might come just from the auditory sensation alone—

 

 

With the greatest effort, Kageyama cranes his neck and raises his head off the pillow to look down at Hinata, gasping and jolting with every fiery burst of pleasure that zips up his spine each time Hinata crooks his fingers. Of _course_ , he’s good at this. Playing Kageyama like an instrument without even fucking trying.

Actually. It’s pretty obvious how hard Hinata is trying. It’s just that he doesn’t _have_ to.   

Hinata is an absolute mess of person; face tipped up towards him and still all messy from Kageyama coming on him, cheeks and lips a deep cherry red, eyes blown dark and glassy and hair so mussed it would be comical if his fingers weren’t buried deep inside Kageyama, making him cry and pant and curl his toes. Make noises he never imagined he could even make. Hinata’s other hand is flexing into his thigh hard enough to bruise, and Kageyama can’t wait to run his fingers over the purple welts tomorrow—evidence.

Testament.

Hinata’s gaze is locked on his but it’s glazed and unfocused. Drunk. And yet somehow Kageyama is reminded of the look of determination he gets during a game. Resolved and concentrated. And Kageyama bets that if he weren’t panting so hard that the rattle of breath scraping from his throat echoed off the walls, that Hinata’s tongue would be poked out the corner of his mouth.

“God, Kageyama,” Hinata moans when he scissors his fingers apart. “I want you—you have no idea—“

Kageyama throws his head back against the pillow at the aching stretch and almost loses his mind when Hinata adds a third finger, his vision blurring at the suddenness of it. It burns, but his eyes sting with hot tears at the overwhelming surge of need to be filled to the breaking point—

 

 

“Enough—“ Kageyama chokes, “I need you—inside—“

Hinata’s head goes fuzzy at the plea and he feels his body move as if on autopilot—slick fingers slowly draw out of Kageyama on the setter’s ragged exhale and then he’s sitting back onto his heels, fumbling for the bottle of lube again, digits stiff and clumsy and ineffective in flicking open the cap. He huffs a whining breath of frustration and then Kageyama is moving, sitting up and closing his trembling hands over Hinata’s.

“Relax, idiot,” Kageyama breathes into his ear, but the chide is as shaky as the setter’s own hands when they take the bottle from him. His breath gusts heavily against Hinata’s neck before he kisses him there at the slope of his shoulder.

Hinata should have some retort for that—something that points out how utterly wrecked Kageyama is himself—but he’s having a hard time focusing on anything aside from the cool drizzle of lube covering his cock and then the warm hand slicking him up. Of all the times he’s imagined something like this, _nothing_ in the world could have prepared him for—

“How do you want me?”

Fucking _that._

“You can’t just ask that!” Hinata bleats, throwing his hands over his face. “That’s—i-isn’t that something that you should decide, anyway!?”

At first, he weakly resists the gentle tug to his wrists, coaxing him from hiding, but he surrenders to the lips pressed against his temple, then his jaw, and then he’s being dragged forward.

“When you were watching me,” Kageyama says as he lies back and pulls Hinata up over him, “how did—“

“I wasn’t _watching_ you!” Hinata cries. “I just _saw_ a-and—“

“Like this, then,” Kageyama whispers, skating his hands down over Hinata’s sides to cup his ass; Kageyama gives a little upward roll of his hips to drive the point home. “I want to be able to see you.”

Hinata swallows thickly. “Okay,” he whispers back.

That hardly encompasses all he wants to say, but the way Kageyama is looking at him has robbed Hinata of the ability to speak further. He’s clearly terrified, but the trust in his eyes overfills Hinata with choking emotion, and he thinks that if Kageyama were to look at him that way on the court, there’d be no block he couldn’t smash through. He’d soar to new heights. Fly impossibly high.  

Hinata kisses Kageyama before sliding back down his body to kneel between his legs, pushing them apart a little and then wrapping his arms beneath his knees, hitching them up and draping them over his own thighs. “I’m… I’m gonna…” the words fall out of him with no real trajectory and he grabs his lubed up cock for the first time, lining himself up. “T-tell me if it… hurts. Okay?” he licks his parched lips. “Will you tell me?”

“Hinata, _please_ ,” Kageyama groans, throwing his hands over his face.

Hinata bites his lip to hold back the whimper and presses forward. There’s warm resistance at the very tip of his cock paired with a sharp, breathless sob and Kageyama’s hands fly from his face to fist into the bedding. Hinata pauses, but he doesn’t _stop._ He just has to catch his breath and brace a hand around Kageyama’s hip while he holds his cock in place. And to the low, rough chant of _yes yes yes_ Hinata rolls his hips gently, and starts to slide in.

It’s tortuously hot and tight and, oh god, _wet_ inside Kageyama from all the lube, and as badly as Hinata wants to watch himself sink into the gasping setter, his head pitches back and a ragged moan threads out of him.

“Hinata— _fuck_ —s-so—you’re—it’s—”

“Tight—‘yama—” Hinata gasps, “you’re—I can’t—” Kageyama clenches around him as he edges himself in. Hinata has to drop over Kageyama, hands bracing beside the setter’s shuddering ribcage to find the leverage to push himself forward, deeper into Kageyama. “Does it— _ah—_ am I—”

Kageyama thrashes his head from side to side. “Don’t—fuck—m-more— _more—”_ he reaches for Hinata, big hands wrapping around trembling shoulders.

Hinata is having trouble breathing—having trouble _moving_. Kageyama is so impossibly tight, muscles pulsing and sucking at Hinata’s length, drawing him in deeper and deeper until Hinata bottoms out, quivering thighs flush with Kageyama’s ass.

“I’m—all the way—” Hinata wheezes. “You feel—a-are you okay?”

Shuddering on every breath, Kageyama squeezes at Hinata’s shoulders, nodding, throat working to either swallow or speak—

“J-just—minute—I need—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hinata breathes, nodding hard. “Okay—I’ll wait—”

“Big—” Kageyama chokes. “You’re—bigger than—I thought—”

“Hey!”

“That’s not—god shut up—” Kageyama screws his eyes down. “D-dumbass—”

“Don’t insult me while I’m—inside you—” Hinata huffs, hips shaking with the effort to keep still. He was going for threatening, but the crack in his voice gives him away. And the genuine smile that softens Kageyama’s blushed up face makes Hinata’s heart swell to bursting, his whole body rushing with something too overwhelming to contain. Blue eyes blink open.

“Okay, I—” Kageyama breathes. “I’m—are you... Shouyou, are you—crying?”

“There’s a lot going on inside me!” Hinata blurts, hand coming up to scrub over his eyes.

“I know—the feeling,” Kageyama huffs, hiking his legs up around Hinata’s waist.

Hinata sniffles through a manic grin, sobbing out something that he really hopes sounds like a laugh and gently placing his hand on Kageyama’s chest, right above his heart. “I just—really love you,” he says.

“I l-love you, too,” Kageyama says quietly. He leans up, still shaking like mad, and seals his lips around Hinata’s, kissing him deeply and back to breathlessness. And then, against his lips, Kageyama says, “move, stupid.”

The drag of Kageyama’s tight, hot insides when Hinata draws back makes him jerk and shudder and gasp, and when Hinata rolls his hips forward, Kageyama collapses back against the pillow with a throaty cry, back arching deep off the bed. Hinata does it again, out and in, a little faster, and is met this time with the rock of Kageyama’s own hips, forcing himself down over Hinata’s shaft as if waiting a millisecond more would be too much to bear.

Hinata’s sets the driving pace and they rock together in a perfect rhythm—totally in sync. Hinata is sure that here’s some aspect of this still yet to be tested. He knows he should be working to find Kageyama’s prostate, but with the way Kageyama is moaning is name, his cock stiff and leaking down over his stomach, Hinata knows Kageyama isn’t suffering any lack of pleasure.

He’ll make it better, yes. Next time. And the time after that.

Kageyama is beautiful spread beneath him—far surpassing what he spied from the doorway. And he couldn’t imagine taking Kageyama from behind. Giving up this image of parted lips and red cheeks, the lift of breath in his chest. The pleading eyes.

Well… okay, no, he can _definitely_ imagine fucking him from behind, but right now he needs this connection. To see all the ways Kageyama receives him. Hinata even leans back a little, slipping a hand between them to where they are joined, where Hinata is sinking into him, delicate fingers feeling the stretch of Kageyama around him before the sensation becomes too much and he falls forward again, hands fitting against Kageyama’s waist.

“Good—so good—” Hinata whimpers, “Tobio—I’m not—feels too—it’s too much—”

“Too much—” Kageyama agrees, tipping his head back on the pillow. “Hinata—harder—m-more—”

Hinata is absolutely not going to last. The choked, bubbling sounds threading out of Kageyama every time Hinata thrusts into him curl that tendril of heat tight and low in his belly, but he wants Kageyama to come again. _Needs_ him to. And so he palms at Kageyama’s leaking cock, stiff and bobbing against his stomach.

“­ _Shit—_ Hinata—yes—yes—” Kageyama babbles, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Make me—make me come—please—”

“Kageyama—too good—it’s—I’m so close—” Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about the fluttering pressure he’s buried in, or how Kageyama curves and bows to work Hinata deeper and deeper—

“Inside—” Kageyama says with a watery gasp. “Come inside me—”

“Oh _fuck—_ ” Hinata wails, hand pumping frantically over Kageyama and hips stuttering, jerky and desperate as he battles off the white, flickering haze creeping into his vision. “’yama—Kageyama—I’m gonna come—I-I have to—oh _god_ —c-coming—I’m coming—"

With a battered sob, Hinata thrusts in deep, buried to the hilt and gives himself up to the bottomless pool of perfect, shuddering bliss as he spills inside of Kageyama. Wave after wave of ecstasy washes over him, jerking his hips and rocking Kageyama with the force of it while he comes harder than he ever dreamed possible, all sensation swallowing him down into absolute oblivion—

And then there are strong hands tugging at his hair, at his shoulders and his arms, towing him back up through the fog, and a bleating, garbled stream of _fuck_ and _yes_ pours from Kageyama’s lips, his jaw dropping as he paints his chest with cum, thick ribbons spurting from his cock and thickly coating Hinata’s fingers while his hole spasms around Hinata’s shaft, milking and wringing him utterly and completely dry.

Hinata collapses heavily against Kageyama’s chest and carefully slides out of him; both of them panting and trembling, sluggish, groping hands fumbling to lace sticky fingers together as they let the weight of their activity comfortably settle over them.

“Holy… just… _wow_ ,” Hinata says.

“Holy wow,” Kageyama agrees, lazily combing his fingers through Hinata’s hair as the last of their tremors fade away. And then Kageyama twitches violently, hissing out a breath.

“What?” Hinata mutters against the setter’s sweat-slick chest.

“Um,” Kageyama squirms beneath him, “you came… a lot. I think.”

“Well… yeah,” Hinata says, brows furrowing. Then he gets it. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.” Hinata rolls his face into Kageyama’s chest, feeling himself heat. But he can’t help giggling. He rolls off of Kageyama and onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll help you change your sheets.”

“I came like five times today,” Kageyama says flatly, staring at the ceiling.

“That’s… impressive,” Hinata mutters, rolling over onto his side and snuggling up to Kageyama. “Want to try for six?”

“I might die.”

“If it makes you feel any better, this is the third night in a row I’ve been covered in semen.”

There’s a pause, then—

“Third?” Kageyama sits up and looks down at him.

Hinata licks his lips. “Yeah… I didn’t just… when I _saw_ you, you know, that night—”

“I knew you smelled weird!”

“How do you not know what… what _that_ smells like!?”

“Well it wasn’t like I was expecting it! I was a little out of it, anyway.” Kageyama pulls his gaze away, embarrassed even after everything they just did. “I can’t believe you broke into my house to jerk off.”

“That wasn’t my intention!” Hinata huffs, rolling over and pushing himself up on all fours. “I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Yeah, I’m often faced with problems where my only solution is to masturbate.”

“ _Ughh.”_ Hinata drops his face into the bed, ass in the air while he grumbles wordlessly. “I’m really sorry. I should have called,” he mutters into the bed. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, I guess I can’t complain,” Kageyama says, pushing Hinata over onto his side and then crawling over him, caging him with his arms, “if it led to all this.”

Hinata smiles and feels himself go pink all over, and then Kageyama lowers himself and presses their lips together softly.

“I love you, you criminal,” he murmurs.

Hinata’s heart flutters. “You do? Really?”

Kageyama jerks, like he was slapped. He sits back on his heels. “What?”

“You… never said that before,” Hinata mumbles, half rolling his face into the bed.

But there’s a huge gap of silence where Kageyama doesn’t say anything and Hinata raises his eyes.

“I mean,” Hinata adds, “just before… is the first time you said it, so… I don’t know, I just—”

“Are you stupid?”

“Hey!” Hinata bristles.

“I’ve definitely told you before!”

“You have not!” Hinata cries. “I would have remembered! I say it _all the time_ , so the fact that you _never_ did was always a little—”

“I _have_ though!” Kageyama insists. “Last night,” he jabs a finger in Hinata’s face. “I remember it clearly—”

“Well I was asleep, then!”

“Maybe! How is that my fault?”

Hinata blinks up at Kageyama and cocks his head. “Okay, so if you said it last night then _that_ was the first time.”

“I…” Kageyama swallows, eyes shifting. “I don’t… no, that can’t be true.”

“I think it is,” Hinata says quietly. Then he sighs. “Kageyama, it doesn’t matter.” He drifts closer to him and kisses him softly on the cheek. Then he smiles. “I’m really happy that you love me.”

Serious blue eyes pull to his, and then he’s falling onto his back with Kageyama’s fingers circling his wrists, a sad, longing gaze blinking inches from his face. “Hinata, I…”

“Kageyama, it’s okay—”

“I’m so in love with you that it’s killing me.”

Hinata blinks, studying Kageyama’s face as his chest and throat grow tight, welling with happiness.  

“You really are stupid,” Kageyama sighs, letting his head hang.

“Probably,” Hinata says with a smile, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “But so are you.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama mutters, raising his head. “I love you.”

Hinata gives a sniffly, snotty giggle, and Kageyama reaches to swipe away a tear running down into his hair with his thumb. “Are you going to say it all the time now?” Hinata asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Good. I love you.” Kageyama wilts, then, just a little, and drops his forehead against Hinata’s with a deep sigh. Then he wilts a lot, collapsing against Hinata’s chest. “My ass hurts.”

Hinata can’t help the hissing laugh that leaks through his teeth, cheeks warming. “Yeahh~ well,” he starts, “I’ll make it up to—” but then he gasps, eyes widening. “ _Wahh~_ ‘yama! Food!”

“Hm?” A sleepy hum breathes against his skin.

“Food! You made dinner!”

“I did.” Kageyama pushes himself up onto his elbows and yawns. “But no dinner till after you shower. You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting too!” Hinata scoffs, shoving hard at Kageyama’s chest to roll out from under him and slide off the bed. They both are horrendously dirty, and despite his stomach growling, a shower _does_ sound good—

“I’m obviously going to shower with you, stupid.”

Now it sounds better.

Their limbs are slow moving and heavy, hands lazy, but loving, when they work shampoo into each other’s hair and lather suds over their skin. Kageyama insists that he’s not _that_ sore, but he lets Hinata dote on him, gently washing his back and rinsing the cum off his chest, carefully and gently rubbing soap between his thighs. There’s a scuffle when Hinata wants to wash his ass for him, but Hinata concedes knowing that they just aren’t there yet—and after being told that he’s a fucking weirdo. They spend the last half of the shower just holding each other, letting the water run down over them until it cools. And once they towel off, Kageyama finds some clean, cozy blankets to cocoon themselves in, in place of clothing.

Most of the candles are still lit when they shuffle into the kitchen, and Hinata tries lecturing Kageyama on the importance of fire safety, but somehow his blanket gets wrapped around his face.

The rice is still good when Kageyama serves it from the cooker, and Hinata watches on with awe while he cracks the eggs perfectly, without leaving little bits of shell like _he_ always does. They forego the table and instead sit on the floor up against the cabinets all wrapped up in their blankets, giggling tiredly and trying to feed each other.

And after helping Kageyama change his bedding, Hinata snuggles up next to him, peppering kisses all along his neck and over the shoulder that he can reach, head-butting him in the ribs when Kageyama tells him he loves him for, literally, the hundredth time.

“I know, stupid,” Hinata murmurs, already half asleep.

And Kageyama nods against him, satisfied—just like Hinata is, in so many ways.

And Hinata knew, honestly, that Kageyama loved him all along. At least probably.

No. Definitely.

And the last thought Hinata has before he loses himself to sleep, is that maybe he should accidentally spy on Kageyama more often. If this is what comes out of it.

But he knows that’s silly. _Crazy_ even. It’s not every day that Kageyama’s parents go out of town.

So he’ll just settle for living with Kageyama one day. They’ll be in college soon, after all. Dorm mates. No. _Boyfriends._ In an apartment. A _big_ apartment. A _mansion_ , even.

Yeah. One day.

But for now, he’ll just look forward to the next night of rice bowls and blankets. And sex. And showers.

And hashing a plan that has Kageyama walking in on _him_. You know… just to be fair.

He already has so many ideas.

The future is bright. And Hinata can’t wait.

 

 

 


End file.
